In Over My Head
by vintagenoise
Summary: sequel to You and I (Collide): Dean has all but given up. Yes, he's dating the girl of his dreams, but nothing else is going right. His grades are slipping, his job keeps him away from his friends, and the deal he has with Alastair is only getting worse. At least Dean's best friend from last summer, Castiel, is back in town... but so are the confusing feelings that come with him.
1. Chapter 1

If you're here because you read _You and I (Collide)_ and were waiting for part 2 to begin, well, here you go! :) If you're here because you saw the link and thought it sounded interesting, welcome! While I try to make each part of the story stand on its own, I definitely recommend reading _You and I (Collide)_ first, to better understand how the characters are growing and what the story is doing.

Crossposted to Ao3. Prologue contains mentions of character death (not Dean or Cas). This part of the story will explore a romantic relationship with Dean/Lisa, but (since it's stated in both this prologue and the prologue for _You and I (Collide))_ it's not really a spoiler for me to tell you that whatever happens between Dean and Lisa, they're not endgame.

* * *

**Young Volcanoes**

**Part Two: In Over My Head**

_Please don't give up, dear you_

_I'm but the sliver moon sliding through_

_When you belong to a song_

_Salty eyes_

_You belong_

- **Salty Eyes**, The Matches

**Prologue**

**January 19th, 2010**

Dean tosses his cell phone onto the counter, then puts his face in his hands, taking a slow, deep breath. Something to center him, draw his emotions back from the forefront, so he can focus on everything that's more important than his tears. He still has so much to do before the funeral, before people start arriving - there's no time to waste on grief.

He lifts his head again when he feels more in control, and reaches for the checklist Bobby gave him last night. Since Dean had insisted on doing as much as he possibly could by himself, Bobby had opted to just help him set up a to-do list. He still needs to call the bank and the post office. Actually make the time to look at the envelope where Mary left her last wishes, so he can then call the funeral director. He needs to work up the courage to go through her closet and find an outfit for the wake. Send the rest of her clothes to Goodwill.

Dean leans over and takes another deep breath. He's days away from turning twenty, and he's planning his mother's funeral. A part of him knows that, if he asked for help, he'd get plenty of it. But then he'd have too much time on his hands, and frankly, he'd rather keep himself occupied than have to face reality.

God knows what he's going to do once everything is taken care of.

When he's able to lift his head again, he catches a glimpse of movement by the kitchen door. Sam is standing there, watching him with mournful eyes, but Dean quickly straightens up and clears his throat. Sam shouldn't be worrying about him. Sam shouldn't be worrying about anything - he's got a few days off from school, Sarah, Andy, and Jess are coming over later, and all Sam needs to do is sit there and grieve and let his friends (and Dean) support him. Dean's the adult. He'll do the rest.

"What's up, Sammy?" Dean asks, busying himself by digging in the drawers, pretending he's getting ready to make dinner.

Sam watches him closely. "Are you really going to cook?"

"Yeah." Dean frowns. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because Ellen said she'd cook for us for a while. She should be here in a half hour."

"I like cooking." Dean turns away from Sam and takes a few quick breaths through his nose. "Did the landline ring while I was on the phone with Cas?"

"Yeah." And Dean has to look at his brother, because with just that one syllable, Sam's given away the game. "What?"

Dean narrows his eyes. "Who was it, Sam?"

"Cas is going to be here for the funeral?" Sam tries to change the subject, sounding a little too perky, and now Dean's convinced something's up.

"Was it Dad?"

Sam rolls his eyes. They called their father before they called anyone else, and he'd sworn he'd come to Sileas for the funeral, or as soon as he could get there. Both boys still have trouble trusting their father's promises, even though he's been clean and settled down for years now. Old habits die hard. "No," Sam answers. "It was Lisa."

Dean's heart stops. He jumps between anger and guilt and confusion, before clearing his throat and settling on a casual tone. "Lisa Braeden? I haven't talked to her in years."

Sam bites his lower lip and takes a few more steps into the kitchen. He's not even sixteen yet, but he's stretched out like saltwater taffy, only an inch or two smaller than Dean. His knees and elbows get everywhere, accidentally digging into Dean's ribs as he fills up the space next to him. "She saw the article in the paper, and hunted around to get our number to see if it was okay for her to come to the funeral."

Dean pauses, his fingers wrapped around a cabinet's brass handle. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her she could."

Dean tightens his grip. Sam sighs.

"Seriously, Dean, it's been _years_. You're with Cas now, anyway, so what does it matter?"

"I'm not mad," Dean says slowly, his voice gruff. "She knew Mom too. If she wants to come, she can come."

Sam watches Dean closely, but Dean refuses to meet his gaze, and refuses to satisfy his curiosity. What happened with Lisa was a mess. A mess that's entirely Dean's fault, to the point that he's not even sure if Cas has completely forgiven him for it. Considering Dean only spoke to Lisa once after it all went to hell, he's surprised she wants to come to the funeral at all. Mom must have made a bigger impression on her than he thought.

"It's fine," Dean says again, pushing away from the cabinet, keeping his face down. "I have shit to take care of."

"Okay," Sam mumbles. Dean hears Sam's pain rather than hears it, and all he can do is pick up the pace, try to escape to his room, back to the bustle of preparation. Back to being so busy he can't feel. "I'll just… clean up in here."

Dean only just stops himself from slamming his bedroom door, and he has to stop and take a moment to breathe before he makes his way down the stairs. The yellow envelope with Mary's last wishes in it is sitting on Dean's desk. Just thinking of touching it makes him ache all over, but he has to. Someone has to.

He wants to call Cas. Tell him about how much pain he's in, how much is weighing on his shoulders, how this is so much more difficult than he ever could have imagined, and not just in the sense that he desperately misses his mother, but that he has to know things he never wanted to know. Not until he was well into his fifties, at least.

Dean takes a seat on his bed and covers his face with his hands, taking deep, shuddering breaths. It takes several moments for him to finally calm down, and several more before he works up the courage to open the envelope.

Mary wants to be cremated.

Dean breaks.

A few hours later, Dean emerges from his room. He avoids Sam's gaze, well-aware that he looks like hell and unwilling to talk about why.

"Ellen brought baked macaroni and cheese," Sam says quietly. "She told me to tie you down and funnel it into your mouth if I had to."

Dean huffs. It's as close as he can get to a laugh right now. "All right, all right." He shuffles into the kitchen, where the pan still sits on the island; Sam never did know how to put away leftovers. Dean shakes his head and cuts himself a piece, putting it into the microwave for a quick jolt. He taps his fingers against the microwave door, then turns back to Sam.

"Did you get Lisa's number?"

Sam raises his eyebrows. "Why?"

Dean shrugs. "I want to call her." It's easier to focus on his past sins, to want to make amends, then to have to face anything else to do with Mary's death. He's had enough of that for one evening.

Sam hesitates. "It should still be in the caller ID," he says slowly. "So. Yeah. Whenever you want."

"Okay." The microwave beeps. Dean turns to retrieve his food and a fork, and drops it off in the dining room before getting the house phone. And yes, _Braeden, Lisa_ is among the recent calls.

Dean sits down and takes a bite of food before hitting the talk button and putting the phone against his ear as it rings. He's pretty sure he hasn't eaten anything since dinner last night, but he doubts he could stomach more than a few bites now. Ellen's threats are the only thing that keep him bringing the food to his mouth, chewing, and swallowing.

The ringing stops abruptly, and a familiar voice says, "Hello?" Dean can see her, bright-eyed and smiling as she sits shotgun in the old pick-up truck Bobby gave him for his sixteenth birthday. The wind rolling through her dark hair as she laughs at whatever stupid joke he'd just made. Nostalgia almost makes him smile. He had cared for her. Whatever happened that summer, and whatever feelings he has for Cas, that doesn't change the fact that he saw a future with her. It wasn't as brightly colored as the future he now sees with Cas, but he could have made it work.

"Hello?" she says again, dragging Dean out of his reverie.

"Hi, Lisa," he responds. She doesn't speak for a moment, but he hears rustling on the other end, and the gentle click of a door closing.

"Dean?" she whispers.

"Yeah." He swallows. "Lisa, I'm sorry."

"No, Dean, don't, you don't have to do this now-"

"Please." Dean closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his face. The smell of the food on his plate makes his stomach roll, so he pushes it away, figuring he'll deal with Ellen's wrath later. "I just want to apologize. Really apologize. So please listen."

She goes quiet again. Someone laughs in the background, maybe the TV, and Lisa sighs. "Okay," she says softly. "Go ahead."

Dean leans over the table. Takes a deep breath. And tries to figure out where to begin.


	2. Love and Memories

_I wanna go back to when_

_I was the winner_

_Way before the rain came and washed away the sinners_

_Everyone was someone_

_And I could never do any wrong_

"**Summer of '89**," Butch Walker

**May 27th, 2006**

If Dean were a more poetic person, he probably would have wooed a classy girl like Lisa Braeden a long time ago. Because he knows she's beautiful, he finds new ways to appreciate it every day, but he's never really been able to tell her how beautiful he thinks she is. Jo and Charlie had insisted on a Disney movie marathon after finals, and when Aladdin struggled to describe Jasmine's beauty to the Genie, Dean had really felt for the guy. It's tough, trying to explain how beautiful someone is when you're struck dumb just thinking about them.

They're out in the clearing on top of the hill that overlooks Sileas, in Dean's old pick-up truck. It's basically Lover's Lane, but Lisa is genuinely entranced by the little blinking lights of the houses below, and the gentle movement of the ocean beyond that. And when she smiles that way, like a spotlight, Dean is just happy to be in her presence.

It's okay that he thinks that way, as long as he never says it aloud.

"Stop staring," Lisa says, jerking Dean out of his thoughts. It's dark, with the new moon, but Dean can still make out her smile, so he smiles back.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" She reaches over to turn the radio on, then switches to an oldies station. Normally, Dean doesn't like anyone changing the music in his vehicle, but y'know, oldies aren't so bad. Better than that emo shit Jo and Sam are so obsessed with. The Drifters are singing about romance by the sea, and Dean gently grips Lisa's hand before she can pull back, and brings her knuckles to his lips. When he glances at her from under his lashes, she's smiling widely, and leaning over to close the distance between them.

They've been dating for a few months now, so kissing is familiar. Lisa is pliant and warm beneath Dean's hands, and when she cups his jaw, deepens the kiss, Dean's stomach drops out and his dick twitches in his jeans. They haven't done anything like that yet - they're both virgins, and Lisa admitted early on that she was afraid of being taken advantage of. Dean admired her from afar for over a year, is ecstatic that she even looked at him when he finally worked up the courage to talk to her, let alone accepted his invitation to the movies on a Saturday night. But he gets it. There are creeps out there, guys who want to seduce a girl, then sully her name while never talking to her again. Dean's not like that, but he understands that he'll have to prove that to Lisa first.

Dean presses back against her as much as he can, sliding his hand down to her thigh. Lisa hesitates, taking a breath, before claiming Dean's lips again, a little rougher than before. Surprised, Dean slides his other hand up her back, trying to placate her. She's radiating heat, and hotter as his fingers carefully climb up her thigh. She makes a soft noise into his mouth, and Dean's brain short-circuits. He's going to touch her and she's going to let him. She trusts him enough to let him. This is it. The big moment.

And it's ruined when his phone goes off.

Lisa pulls back, laughing softly. Dean can't believe how good she looks like this, her lips red and shiny, and he yelps when she reaches behind him and slips his phone out of his back pocket.

"I think it's for you," she teases. Dean frowns and takes his phone back. The tiny screen is lit up with Charlie's name, and he rolls his eyes.

"It's just Charlie," he says, flipping his phone open and pressing the end call button. "She can wait." He leans in, pressing featherlight kisses to Lisa's jaw, only for Lisa to giggle and shake him off when his phone starts vibrating in his hand.

"Seems important," Lisa says with a grin, firmly pushing Dean away. "You better answer it."

Dean's going to kill Charlie. He gives Lisa one more longing look, then flips his phone open and brings it to his ear. "This better be good, Bones."

"Wow, way to be rude, Kirk." There's a commotion in the background, loud conversation and glasses clinking. "I only had amazing news for you, but maybe I won't share it anymore."

"Dammit, Charlie, you knew I was going out with Lisa tonight." Dean glances at Lisa, who's smiling knowingly at him. He'll forever be impressed by how good she's been about his friends. She doesn't quite fit in with the other Goonies yet, but Dean's convinced she's his Andy, and all it'll take is one good adventure to bring her into the fold. "What the hell is so important?"

"Spock's back on the Enterprise, Captain."

Dean frowns. "What?"

Charlie sighs in exasperation; he can almost feel her eyeroll. "_Cas_ is back in town."

Dean's heart stops. Next to him, Lisa shifts, her smile fading into concern. "Dean?" she whispers, and he takes a breath, grinning at her.

"Cas is back?" he repeats. Lisa blinks, her eyes going wide. Charlie giggles in his ear. "Where are you guys? Does he have a free pass tonight?"

Something shifts in Lisa's expression, but it's brief, quickly replaced by a smile. Dean shrugs it off when Charlie responds, "He says his brother's staying in Portland tonight, so he's got all night if he wants. You wanna close down the Roadhouse?"

Dean laughs brightly. "Is Ellen okay with that?"

"She fully supports our celebration, yes, as long as we stay away from the bar."

"Fair enough. Put Cas on ice, I'll be there as soon as possible." It's only after Dean's hung up the phone and started the truck that he remembers he's on a date. He glances guiltily at Lisa, cringing slightly. Dean had started working at Bobby's shop immediately after his sixteenth birthday, so even though he and Lisa have been going steady for a while, it's only since school ended (and Mary threatened to get Dean fired if he didn't cut back on his hours and have some fun) that they've actually been able to spend a lot of time together, just the two of them. "Sorry," Dean mumbles, not looking at her directly. "It's just he's-"

"Your best friend?" When Dean looks up, Lisa has a small smile on her face, and he feels a rush of affection for her. "The one you haven't seen in months? Who you never shut up about?" Dean feels heat rising up from his throat, and he turns away as she laughs. "I'm not heartless, Dean. It's fine. Go see him. We'll hang out some other time."

Dean clears his throat as he puts the truck in reverse and starts to back out. "You could come too. No one would mind."

"Nah, I'd just be a huge third wheel." She's not wrong, which just makes Dean feel worse. As he pulls out onto the main road, Lisa gently places her hand over his. "I'm happy to meet him some other time. Tonight should be about you guys catching up. Besides…" She draws her hand back and leans into her seat, smiling slightly. "He's only here for a few months. I get to have you all year long."

Dean blushes again, which makes her laugh outright, but he feels better, and adores his lovely girlfriend all the more for her understanding.

Dean drops Lisa off at home, where she gives him a quick kiss good-bye, and warns him not to have too much fun. He promises to call her tomorrow, and as he pulls back onto the street, he hopes he can introduce her to Cas tomorrow too. It'll all depend on how much freedom Cas has this year. A part of him knows it's a long shot, but he can't help hoping that Cas's family learned something last year, and opted to give him a longer leash.

Dean's missed Cas more than he wants to admit to, even to Jo or Charlie, and especially to Lisa. Something about that wiry kid and his ridiculous blue eyes wormed its way into Dean's heart and made itself at home. They had exchanged MySpace messages and texts and occasional e-mails all during the school year, but a lot of the time, Dean would catch himself drifting off in class, thinking about wrestling with Cas on the beach, pinning him down as the waves crash over their legs...

(This happened about as often as his daydreams about getting Lisa in the bed of his truck and finally finding out if she wears lacey or flowered bras, but Dean isn't concerned about it.)

Dean parks on the gravel lot across the street from the Roadhouse, and as he's walking towards the door, his phone goes off again. He doesn't even look at the caller ID before answering: "I'm literally five feet from the door."

"That Godzilla of a vehicle is yours?"

Dean stops. He feels a smile slowly spread over his face as he searches the golden windows for a familiar face. "If you watched _Godzilla_ without me, Cas, it better have been the good one."

Cas chuckles in his ear, and Dean looks up at the second floor to see a shadowed figure waving down at him. He waves back as Cas says, "I watched a lot of movies in the past year, Dean. I don't expect you to approve of all my choices."

"No, but if you watched _Godzilla_ with Matthew Broderick, I basically owe you a slap in the face. Because that's what that movie was." He pushes past the crowd at the door, waving to Ellen behind the bar, and heads up the spiral staircase.

"I was hoping for a less violent reunion," Cas continues. "But I guess I'll take what I can get with you."

Dean approaches the table just in time to see Charlie pull the phone away from Cas's ear and say, "Quit flirting!" as Cas laughs. Dean takes a deep breath, taking it all in: the warm lighting casting a glow on Cas's skin, his delicate hands as he tickles Charlie breathless in an attempt to get his phone back. Cas has filled out a little, mostly in his shoulders, but his jawline is still soft, and it's a strange juxtaposition of boy and man, but Dean supposes they'll all go through that in the next year or so.

"You're back one day and already causing trouble?" Dean finally says, grabbing a chair from an unoccupied table and dragging it over to the booth his friends have claimed. Cas is up in an instant, his smile huge and brilliant as he wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders. Dean returns the hug, squeezing hard around Cas's ribs and slapping him on the back as they pull apart. Cas is taller than Dean now, though only by an inch, and Dean's pretty sure he felt a light scrape of stubble on his cheek when they embraced.

"It's good to see you, Cas," Dean says, surprised by the quiet honesty of his tone.

Cas's smile has to hurt by now, and Dean remembers just how lonely his friend had been before they met last year, how happy he must be to be back around the people who helped him move past that. "You too, Dean."

"Hey!" Jo yells, startling both boys. "Save the mushy stuff for later. Did you bring Lisa?"

Cas draws back from Dean and reclaims his seat as Dean shrugs. "She said tonight should be about us." He gestures around the table, Cas and Charlie on one side, and Jo, Pam, and Ash squeezed in on the other. "It's not like she'll never have another chance to meet him, right?" He glances at Cas, an eyebrow raised. "You are gonna be able to hang out more this summer, aren't you?"

Cas makes a face and tilts his hand back and forth over the table. "Kind of? Michael's graduated now so he's shadowing Mother full time. Gabriel's supposed to be watching Anna and me now, but Michael will still be around at least once a week."

"So more sneaking around town with your poor friends. Got it." Dean grins when Castiel rolls his eyes. The others laugh uncomfortably, and Dean is reminded of just how much happened without them last summer. Pam was never sneered at by Michael. Jo was never called out for the holes in her jeans by Naomi. Dean's not even sure if Naomi and Michael know anyone's name but his.

Jo gets up suddenly, stretching her arms above her head. "I'm going downstairs to get more drinks, anybody want anything?"

Dean asks for an IPA, but changes it to a Dr. Pepper float when Jo flips him off. Everyone else just wants refills, and Charlie volunteers to accompany Jo and help her carry everything. Dean takes the now empty space next to Cas and grins at him, gently elbowing him in the side. "Are you gonna be able to escape tomorrow?"

Cas blinks at him. "Maybe. Why?"

"'Cause I might try to get Lisa to come out with me, and I want you to meet her."

Cas smiles slowly. "I'd love to meet her. She sounds…" He pauses, biting his lower lip as he thinks. "Well. She sounds great. Is she?"

"Of course she's-" But Dean's cut off when Cas slaps a hand over his mouth, muffling his words. His fingers are strong, and they smell like sea salt, and Dean blushes when Cas smirks at him.

"Of course you think she's great. What do you guys think?" He turns to Ash and Pam, who seem surprised to be included in the conversation.

"I like her," Pam offers. "She's really sweet, very patient, which is good for a Winchester." Dean growls at her from behind Cas's hand, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

"She's all right." Ash shrugs, picking at his fingernails. "Better taste in music than _some_ people we know."

Cas raises an eyebrow and turns back to Dean. "Well. I guess I have to meet her, after those rave reviews."

Dean wonders when he started hanging around people that hated him. He licks Cas's palm, but all he gets is a wrinkled nose in return, and Pam sighs, "This is nice. Dean's so pretty, but that rude-ass mouth ruins the whole effect."

Cas laughs then, his eyes crinkled in the corners, and Dean figures the abuse may be worth it.

They sit upstairs on their own for a few hours, laughing and chatting. Cas fits in like a missing puzzle piece, and Dean feels oddly at peace to be sitting next to him again, as if there had been something restless and jittery in his blood the whole year, but now that Cas is nearby again, it can settle and relax.

Ellen kicks them out around one in the morning. Mary is wiping down tables by the window, but she stops and goes to hug Cas as soon as she sees him, cooing about his height and how badly he needs a haircut. Charlie, Jo, and Pam all snigger amongst themselves until Dean takes Cas's wrist and drags him away, telling his mom that Cas'll be around all summer for her to fawn over, which makes Mary blush and smack his shoulder.

Everyone goes their separate ways once outside, though Jo steals a quick hug from Cas before taking off after Pam and Ash, who live on the same street she does. Cas lingers, following Dean to his truck and inspecting it with a look of disgust.

"Please tell me you don't drive this anywhere but around Sileas," Cas comments, his eyes glittering. Dean bites his lower lip and shrugs; he actually takes it out to Astoria and Seaside pretty regularly, but Cas doesn't need to know that, or the reasons why. Not yet.

"It does the job. And it's only until I turn eighteen anyway." Dean kicks one of the tires, then leans against the bed of the truck. "Then I'll get my dad's car. And she's a beauty."

The shine falls out of Cas's eyes, but he manages a smile anyway. "That's a good year and a half away. This thing looks like it'll fall apart tomorrow."

Dean shoves him playfully. "Stop talking shit about my truck. Tell me about school. What did you do all year besides run around a track and win medals and ace all your classes?"

Cas blushes slightly, but he looks pleased that Dean remembered that much. "I roomed with some of my teammates, so they kept me pretty entertained. They loved your drawings, by the way."

Dean blinks, then meets Cas's gaze, something in his chest slowing his breath and making him dizzy. "You actually posted those up?"

"Every one of them." Cas grins, his teeth glowing in the light of the Roadhouse behind them. "Even the Ewok you sent me for Christmas. Uriel especially liked that one."

On the one hand, Dean is still getting used to people seeing his artwork. After Cas had seemed so impressed, Dean had finally started letting Sam watch over his shoulder as he sketched. Then he would show his mom some of the pieces he put a little more effort in to. And during school, he'd show Charlie and Jo his fanart, blushing bright red when they inevitably screamed in delight over hobbits and slayers and angels.

On the other hand, it's an entirely different thing to find out complete strangers have seen his work. It's hard enough showing the people he's close to. Dean realizes that he'd told Cas to go ahead and post the drawings he gave him up in his dorm room, but it still makes his skin crawl. He can't even picture these people in his head, but they've seen his artwork. His pride. His soul.

Dean manages to smile. "Well, good. Only losers don't like Ewoks."

Cas fondly shakes his head, putting a hand on his hip and looking back at the Roadhouse. "My teammates like victory parties, so I ended up going to one or two of those, but I'm not a fan of drinking or the drunk." His eyes dart towards Dean, and for a brief second, Dean's afraid Cas is going to ask the questions he doesn't want to answer. But the moment passes quickly. "Balthazar had a pretty decent collection of films, though, so he helped you guys in your cause to educate me."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "What movies did you see?"

Cas hums softly for a moment, then starts ticking them off on his fingers. "_Moulin Rouge, Forrest Gump, Psycho, Spirited Away_-"

"You watched Studio Ghibli with them?" Dean says sharply, suddenly annoyed. He had wanted to introduce Cas to Ghibli films, sit next to him and watch his reaction as they went through all those magical, beautiful adventures with gutsy young characters, Totoro and Kiki and Chihiro and Sophie. He'd wanted to draw pictures of them, give them all to Cas, because he missed the way Cas's eyes lit up when he saw Dean's scribbles. No one else reacts that way, that quiet awe, like Dean just handed him a genuine Klimt, instead of a shaky pencil sketch on two-dollar paper.

Cas tilts his head, confused. "Ghibli?"

"Yeah, Studio Ghibli. Home of Hayao Miyazaki?" Dean scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. "They didn't even bother to mention that important little tidbit?"

"It was usually just me and Balthazar," Cas corrects.

Dean scowls outright. "Yeah? Date night at the country club?" he snaps venomously, though he's not even sure why he's so angry about this.

Cas's lips part in surprise, hurt flashing in his eyes. "The fuck is your problem?"

Cas hanging out with some faceless, rich asshole his parents probably love, watching all the movies Dean wanted to introduce him to. Spending time with people of his own station, people who won't tell him all the important behind the scenes things, who won't engage him in a discussion about the cinematography or the animation or the music.

Dean blinks, surprised at himself. When did he get so possessive? "Nothing. Sorry."

"I'm allowed to make friends at school, Dean. You don't have to be a dick about it."

"I know, I said I'm sorry." Dean scuffs his toes through the gravel, shoves his hands in his pockets, and sighs. "Do you want a ride back?"

Cas's eyes flick up and down, studying him. Dean's about to protest and offer another apology, but then Cas smirks. "Will I survive?"

Dean blinks before laughing aloud, slapping a hand on Cas's shoulder. "Shut the fuck up and get in, you little shit."

**May 31st, 2006**

Dean actually really enjoys getting to sit in at Sam's soccer practices, as long as it's sunny out and the wind's not too strong. He gets to sit in the sunshine and watch Sam dominate the field, and he can doodle in his sketchbook and listen to birds, and it's relaxing and pleasant in a way he doesn't get to enjoy very often anymore.

Cas and Charlie are supposed to join him today, which makes it even better. He'd tried to get Lisa to come, but she's agreed to spend a few days a week in Portland with her mom, and therefore isn't available as often as Dean had hoped she'd be. He wants her to meet Cas so badly, and he can't even explain why. He just wants Lisa to like Cas, that's all.

Okay, maybe he doesn't want her like Cas as much as Jo and Charlie and Pam like Cas. But she should at least approve of him and want to be his friend, right? Shouldn't a girl want to be friends with her boyfriend's friends?

Dean winces at that thought, and makes a mental note to call Victor later.

Sam's team takes a water break just as Charlie and Cas arrive, and Sam all but launches his sweaty self at Cas. Dean grins, and Charlie giggles as she takes a seat next to him on the grass, while Cas carefully hugs Sam back, trying to keep the look of disgust and surprise off his face.

"I'm so happy you're back!" Sam babbles once Cas has wiggled free and sat down on Dean's other side. "MySpace just isn't the same, y'know, plus you're, like, never on it! I posted a bunch of bands in your comments, did you see? I think you'll really like them!"

Cas smiles, serene and patient, and Dean adores anyone who can look at Sam like that, even when he's going on about his stupid emo bands. "Yes, thank you, Sam," Cas says. "I listened to all of them, and I'm glad to know they made you think of me."

Sam is beaming, and he looks ready to start another long speech about the bands that Jo got him into, how they're all interconnected but all sound totally different even though Dean couldn't tell the Fall Out Boys from the Discos to save his life. Dean steps in, whistling to get Sam's attention. "You better go get some water in you before practice starts again, Sammy," he suggests, laughing when Sam makes a face and runs away with a quick wave. "Sam loves you almost as much as the girls do, Cas."

Charlie smirks and shakes her head while Cas rolls his eyes. "Yes, I'm very attractive," Cas says drily. "Pam thinks so, Charlie and Jo think so, and you think so. I'm hotter than you, and it drives you crazy. This has been thoroughly established, multiple times."

"Shut up," Dean pouts. Charlie laughs outright, hiding it behind her hand when Dean turns to glare at her. Cas just smiles, that soft, small smile that looks so angelic but is actually just a perfect mask for his natural ability to be a little shit.

"Will Lisa be joining us today?" Cas asks, leaning back on his hands.

"She's visiting her mom in Portland," Dean mumbles, turning back to his sketchbook and ignoring Charlie when she pushes into his personal space to watch. "So nope, you don't get to steal my girlfriend today."

Cas chuckles quietly, which makes Dean smile. Charlie leans up against his shoulder, peering down at the drawing. "Is that Clementine?" she asks.

Dean grins outright. "Yeah."

"Why are you drawing Clementine?"

Dean shrugs, knocking Charlie away. "I like her face and her hair. Do I need another reason?"

Charlie shakes her head, looking thoughtful, while Cas leans in to see, head tilted slightly. "Ohh," he whispers, "Eternal Sunshine. I watched that movie with Balthazar."

Charlie laughs outright, completely missing the way Dean's grip tightens around his pencil, the way his lines suddenly go dark and thick. "I kinda want to thank this guy for helping us out so much. Is he on MySpace?"

Yeah, let's all go thank Balthazar the Great, who can't even properly explain a movie to make sure Cas gets the full experience. Cas has seen Spirited Away, but he didn't know what Studio Ghibli was, how good can Balthazar be? What good is watching a movie, if all you do is _watch_? The first time Dean and Lisa went on a date to the movie theater had been to some Amanda Bynes atrocity, and Lisa had actually been annoyed that Dean still paid more attention to the movie than to her. He can't help it. His brain soaks up the information like a sponge, and then it wants to pass everything along and ensure everyone else has the same experience he does. Is that so wrong? To want Cas to _experience_ a film instead of just having background noise while he-

"_Dean_!" Charlie is almost screaming in his ear, and Dean jumps back, practically falling into Cas's lap while she laughs.

"Dammit, Charlie," Dean snaps, straightening himself back up and closing his sketchbook. "What the hell was that for?"

"Pay attention sometime!" Charlie rolls her eyes. "We were talking about next year's classes. What did you sign up for?"

All the air rushes out of Dean's lungs while blood rushes to his face. His eyes dart to Cas, but quickly turn back to Charlie. He hadn't wanted to have this conversation until closer to the school year, and he certainly didn't want to have it around Cas. "Um. Y'know. The usual."

Again, Charlie rolls her eyes; Dean manages to resist the urge to tell her her face is gonna get stuck that way. "Did you sign up for AP American Lit? There's only one class this year and I missed having you to MST the assigned reading with this year, so please say you did."

Dean swallows, glancing at Cas again. "I didn't. Sorry."

Charlie's face falls. "Why not?"

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Didn't qualify."

The only sounds are the grunts of exertion and the tap of rubber from the playing field. Sam makes a killer pass, but Dean is too busy trying to seem casual and careless and blank to cheer him on. Charlie's mouth is open in surprise, and Cas is eyeing Dean a little too closely for comfort. Dean wonders if Cas will put two and two together, or if he'll be able to get away with keeping all his secrets this year.

Suddenly Charlie's face twists up in anger, and her voice is low when she says, "It was all those parties, wasn't it?"

Dean winces, then quickly tries to pull himself back together. He doesn't look at Cas, but he can feel Cas's gaze on him, hot like a stray ray of sunshine. "What?" Dean asks, nonchalant, but Charlie rolls her eyes yet again, refusing to hear any of it.

"You know how we feel about you hanging out with that creep Alastair, Dean, but you keep doing it, and now it's going to affect your future? Why do you do this to yourself?" Her change in tone happens so quickly it catches Dean off-guard. One moment she's furious, and the next she's practically weeping. This time Dean does look at Cas, but Cas isn't looking at him anymore. Cas's eyes are turned toward the sky, thoughtful and lost, and Dean randomly thinks about drawing him, just like this, asking Cas to hold that pose and sketching him for a few hours. But Charlie is crying over him and Dean can't ignore that, no matter how much he wants to.

"You wouldn't understand," Dean says softly, turning back to Charlie and putting a hand on her shoulder. She quickly shrugs him off and gets to her feet, putting her hands on her hips. Dean is struck with the image of her as Wonder Woman, and he wishes he wouldn't get all these great ideas at such terrible times.

"You need to stop going out with those people," Charlie insists. "For your own good, Dean."

She's right, and Dean knows she's right, but he can't. It's more complicated than she thinks it is, and he's frustrated enough by that to snap at her, "Mind your own damn business, Bradbury."

Her eyes narrow, and Dean braces himself for a fight, but to his surprise, Charlie just storms away without another word, her hair a cloud of red against a bright blue sky. Cas sighs softly as he watches her go.

"She's right, y'know," Cas murmurs.

Dean closes his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it," he says, then twists around to face Cas, opening his sketchbook once again. "Can I draw you?"

Cas turns to blink at him, surprised. His eyes catch the sunlight and Dean remembers how creepily obsessed he had been with Cas's eyes last year. Not that he ever told anyone, of course, but Dean can't remember ever seeing someone with eyes like that before. His own mother's eyes are blue, but they don't catch the light and shift the way Cas's do, nor do they draw and hold Dean's attention the same way. He feels like he'll grow old and die before he ever truly captures Cas's eyes on a page, but that thought just fills him with the burning desire to keep trying.

Lisa's eyes are honey-colored. They widen when she smiles, and a little wrinkle appears between them when she's angry. She has long eyelashes, like Dean's, which is fun when they're making out, though Dean would never tell anybody he likes butterfly kisses. He's drawn her a few times, and she's always beautiful, and her eyes always come out just fine.

Maybe that's why he's so frustrated by Cas's.

Cas shifts uncomfortably, glancing over his shoulder at where Charlie has just disappeared, but then he shrugs. "Sure. If you want."

Dean smiles.

**June 3rd, 2006**

Sometimes Dean wonders if he's weird for not liking days off.

He likes working at Bobby's. He doesn't get to do much, since he's only sixteen and there are laws about how long Bobby can work him, but routine things like tire and oil changes are easy and he makes six bucks an hour and he gets to let his mind wander while he's there. He doesn't have to worry about drunk kids or bruised knuckles, he doesn't have to think about how much he needs Lisa and Cas to get along, and he doesn't have to think about his fight with Charlie. He can just get his hands dirty and drift for a while.

When he has a day off, though, especially one that's rainy and gray like this one, he doesn't have that distraction. Maybe if Sam was home, they could play Mario Kart for a while, but Sam had run out the door not too long after Dean woke up this morning. Probably to meet up with Sarah. Again.

So Dean's home alone, with nothing to do but draw and watch movies, neither of which are really as distracting as he needs them to be. For the millionth time, he considers taking an art class at the community college in Astoria, something to fill his days off, only to quickly remind himself that he doesn't have the time, the money, or the talent.

He's standing in the kitchen, trying to decide if he wants to make a quesadilla or macaroni and cheese, when he hears a knock at the door. He frowns, peering around the corner. He's not expecting anyone today: Charlie's mad at him, Lisa's still out of town, Jo and Pam had gone shopping in Portland this morning, Garth's volunteering, and Ash had wanted to spend some time on his newest project. Cas might have snuck away, though, and the image of Cas standing on the front porch looking like a drowned rat makes Dean smile and head for the door.

But when he glances out the window, there's a head of bright red hair waiting for him.

"Charlie?" Dean opens the door and studies her carefully, tightening his jaw. "Are you gonna hit me?"

She blushes, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. Something is off about her stance, her eyes darting back and forth, never really settling on Dean for longer than a few seconds. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

That's the last thing Dean expected her to say.

"What the hell for?"

"For snapping like that." Charlie shrugs, and apparently finds something really interesting in the flowerpots lining the dining room window. "You get to choose your friends, and I guess as long as I don't have to hang out with them, it's not my place to judge you or make demands."

Dean narrows his eyes, waiting for the punchline, but it never comes. Charlie just shifts anxiously, her hands behind her back. If Pam were here, she'd probably make some comment about Charlie's aura, but to Dean, it just looks like she needs someone to talk to, and Dean was the only one available. So he sighs and stands back, gesturing her in through the front door, and she gives him a small smile when she passes him.

"I was hoping we could watch a movie," Charlie says after hanging her jacket up. There's a blue DVD case in her hand, and she tilts back and forth on her heels, smiling weakly, until Dean raises an eyebrow.

"Are you okay?"

"Perfect!" Charlie hesitates a moment longer, then takes a deep breath and holds the DVD out to Dean. She goes still when he takes it, and shakily withdraws her hand, tucking it into the pocket of her jeans. Dean studies her, still confused, as her smile starts to fade.

"What's going on?"

Charlie bites her lip and turns her eyes away. "Just tell me if you're down for the movie or not."

Dean watches her carefully for another moment, then flips the DVD case over. There's an unhappy blonde girl in a pink dress on the cover, and the whole thing looks cheap. "'_But I'm A Cheerleader_,'" Dean reads, then scoffs. "Is this some kinda chick flick?"

Charlie's whole face falls, taking Dean by surprise. "We don't have to watch it," Charlie starts, but Dean puts a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to try and meet her eyes.

"Why do you want to watch it?"

"It's not important, Dean-" She reaches for the DVD, but Dean holds it up over his head, out of her reach. She sighs and rolls her eyes before meeting his gaze. "Read what it's about."

Dean furrows his brow, but takes a few steps back before lowering the box to read the summary on the back. Blah blah 'teen comedy,' yadda ya 'coming of age,' la dee da 'sexual discovery.' Dean's not sure what sets the movie apart from any other teen comedy he and Charlie have seen lately, but then he actually notices the pictures adorning the back cover, and the term 'sexual discovery' takes on a whole new meaning.

The blonde girl from the cover is holding hands with another girl.

The film features RuPaul. At a rehabilitation camp.

Dean blinks, then lifts his head to stare at Charlie. "This… is this a movie about lesbians?"

Charlie laughs weakly, shifting her weight. "Yeah."

"Why do you want to watch a movie about lesbians?" Dean frowns, flipping the case over in his hands. "How did you _get_ a movie about lesbians?"

Charlie rolls her eyes and plucks the case from his hands, hugging it protectively against her chest. "A magical place I like to call, _Amazon_," she says, somehow managing a mocking tone even as she attempts to use the DVD as a shield.

Dean huffs. "Well, that answers one question." He crosses his arms over his chest, pointedly staring at Charlie, waiting for her to break under the silence. It only takes a few moments before she makes a noise of frustration, hiding her face behind the DVD.

"I thought you'd enjoy a movie about lesbians," She says, quiet and frantic.

"Why'd you think that?"

"'Cause you're a guy." Charlie swallows, shifting back on her heels. "A straight guy."

And it clicks. Dean feels like an absolute idiot when it hits him, and he rubs his hand over his mouth, turning the concept over in his head a few times, until everything has moved around and made space for it to settle in. "You're not a guy, though," Dean says slowly, hesitant to actually put the idea into words. "And you're not… straight?"

The rain pounds against the bay window, steady and uncaring. Charlie peers over the top of the DVD case, eyes wide, and Dean stays still, afraid of startling her. Thunder rolls in the distance, and Charlie takes a little breath.

"I… maybe not?"

Dean blinks a few times, his lips parting in surprise. "'Maybe not?'"

"I don't think so?"

"Oh." Dean swallows. "Have you mentioned this to anybody else?"

"No." Charlie lowers the DVD case and carefully places it on the back of the couch. "I thought about it a long time before I decided to tell you first."

There are a million questions rolling around in Dean's head, some important, and some just plain curiosity. Does she like boys at all? Is there a particular girl she's interested in? Is Dean supposed to keep this between them? But he pushes them all aside and steps forward. She winces and holds her hands up when he moves, which makes his heart twist painfully, but he pulls her into a tight hug, cradling her head in his neck. He feels her gasp against his skin, but soon enough, her arms are wrapped around him, her hands gripping his shoulders, and she starts to shiver, but Dean just holds her tighter.

"I'm not a very good talker," he mumbles into her hair, "but if you ever need to talk to somebody, I'll listen."

Charlie draws back and smiles at him. Her eyes are shiny, but the smile is real, so Dean returns it. "Thanks, Dean," she says quietly, stepping back out of his reach. She picks up the DVD again and sighs. "So. Do you want to watch it with me?"

Dean pretends to think about it, humming softly as he shifts his weight onto one leg and studies the ceiling. "If you're gay, does that mean you don't want to cuddle up with me anymore? 'Cause that's gonna be a dealbreaker, sorry to say."

The smile on Charlie's face is blinding, and she rubs at her eyes before reaching out to slap Dean's arm. "You have a girlfriend to cuddle with, what do you need me for, Winchester?"

"Can't a guy like curling up with his best friend to watch a movie?"

"Well," Charlie says with a sigh, "You don't have boobs, but I guess you'll have to do."

That smile stays on her face for the rest of the day, until Mary comes home to find Charlie tucked under Dean's arm while they watch Fargo. "You guys look like you had a good day," Mary comments as she hangs up her coat. Charlie turns her grin to Dean, and he matches it.

"Yeah," Charlie says, "It was pretty good."

**June 5th, 2006**

Lisa looks incredible in her new white dress, an orange scarf wrapped around her waist. The contrast against her tanned skin is setting off all kinds of alarms in Dean's head, where he kind of wants to take her down to the beach and draw her as she dances in the sand, but he also kind of wants to get her in the bed of his truck and find out if her thighs are as tan as her shoulders.

They're sitting on the patio outside Fulio's, waiting for Mary to get off work. The wind is up, which isn't unusual, and Lisa's putting her hair up in a ponytail, fidgeting with the elastic. Dean smiles slightly.

"Nervous?"

Lisa blinks at him, tugging her ponytail tight, then dropping her hands to her lap. "No. Should I be?"

"You're meeting my mom. You tell me."

They've been dating since March, so Mary and Lisa have managed to pass each other a few times, like ships in the night, but with Mary's work schedule, and Dean and Lisa still in school, and Dean himself working at the garage, there hasn't really been time for them to do more than say hello and good-bye. This kind of get-together is such a rarity that Dean had even invited Cas, hoping to kill two birds with one stone, but Cas's mom was around for the day, and there's no sneaking out when Naomi's watching.

"She always seemed really sweet, when I saw her around town," Lisa says quietly, staring at the table. "I don't know, though. You're the man of the house, and I guess I'm stealing you away."

Dean snorts, then covers his grin with his hand. "'Man of the house?' Me?"

Lisa smirks and rolls her eyes. "You bring in money, don't you? Take Sam to soccer practice? Buy and make food? C'mon, Dean, you're more like Sam's father than his brother. If that doesn't make you 'man of the house,' I don't know what does."

Dean feels a prickle of irritation at her words. They're true, at the end of the day, but Dean doesn't particularly like to hear it. It feels like a slight against him, against his mom, his dad, and all the ways his family has had to make sacrifices. He knows that Lisa doesn't mean it to be offensive, so he forces a smile, leaning over the table and resting his chin in his hand.

"You don't get to really steal me away for a couple more years, babe," he says with a wink. Lisa shakes her head, smiling.

In the comfortable silence, Dean's phone goes off. He glances through the restaurant's window, and when he doesn't see Mary, he goes ahead and flips his phone open without looking at the call screen. "Yeah?"

"Hope you're not busy, Dean."

Dean closes his eyes and rubs a hand over his mouth as Alastair's voice slithers through the phone and into his ear. He'd been afraid that the parties would pick up now that school's out, and had considered himself lucky not to have been called about them yet. But Dean's luck never lasts very long.

"Little bit," Dean mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What do you want?"

"Now, Dean," Alastair says, low and patronizing, "Be nice. Don't you think you deserve a little relaxation? All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, or so they say."

"I'm out with my girlfriend," Dean insists, glancing at Lisa and hating the look of concern on her face. "Tonight's no good."

"That's not the way it works. You know that."

Dean watches Lisa, the wind casting stray locks of hair about her cheeks and ears, ruffling her bangs as she watches him back, her brown eyes wide. The light is starting to dim as the sun prepares to set, but Lisa is still glowing, and Dean sighs. He'd wanted to take her to the beach tonight, sit out on a towel under the stars until her curfew. He'd wanted to hold her close, feel her breath on his neck when she laughs, her warm skin buzzing underneath his hands.

He wants to protect her. But he can't do that laying on a beach.

"When," Dean says. Lisa frowns and looks out at the ocean.

Alastair gives him the information, and luckily the party starts late enough that Dean can at least get through dinner before he has to leave. It works, because Mary only has an hour before she has to go to her shift at the Roadhouse, so she won't ask questions. Lisa learned during the school year that Dean would occasionally have to skip out on plans at the last minute. As far as she knows, it's a job, though Dean's pretty sure that, if Lisa were to spend more time with his friends, she'd figure out he was ditching her for parties pretty quickly. A part of him wants to tell her, this is _for_ her. He goes to these parties to help Alastair get new clients and to help him keep the current ones in line, and if he has to get drunk to do the job, then that's the way it is. As long as it keeps Lisa, and Sam, and Charlie and Jo, and everyone else that Dean cares about, as long as it keeps them safe from Alastair and his crew, then Dean will do what he has to do.

He hangs up the phone, and reaches across the table to take Lisa's hand, but she moves away before he can. "More work?" she says, voice clipped and cold.

"I'm sorry, Lis, really, I just…" Dean trails off, unsure of what to say. He doesn't want Lisa to have any idea of what it is he does for Alastair, but that leaves him without any excuses or a chance to really apologize. "I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"I'm sure." Lisa's lips are pressed in a tight line, her brow furrowed, and Dean sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

Mary arrives just then, beaming and carrying a couple boxes of pizza. Lisa manages to smile back at her, to initiate a conversation, and Dean takes comfort in the fact that she didn't just walk away. She wouldn't put this kind of effort into getting along with his mom if she wanted to break up. That's good.

But he knows, he's not going to get away with this for much longer.

Later, Dean stumbles out onto an unfamiliar porch, down a set of unfamiliar stairs, and takes a seat in the grass on an unfamiliar lawn. The sky is spinning above him, and his knuckles are bleeding, and his ears are still ringing with the sound of teenagers jeering as he beat up some poor kid who got a little too drunk and mouthed off to the wrong person. Alastair had laughed and wondered if he should charge extra to watch Dean fight people, and Dean's stomach rolls at the thought. He groans softly and puts his head in his hands, feeling inexplicably alone and desperate.

He's drunk enough that he doesn't realize he's dialed his phone until a tinny voice comes from the speaker, saying his name and sounding uneasy.

Dean brings the phone to his and slurs, "Whos'is?"

There's a pause before the other end quietly responds, "Dean, _you _called _me_," and that's Cas's voice, rough and sleepy, so Dean swallows and rubs a hand over his eyes when Cas continues, "Are you all right?"

"Drunk," Dean grunts. "Stupid drunk."

"Where are you?"

"Seaside."

There's a rustle of fabric, and Cas sighs, making the speaker crackle. "Do you need me to come get you?"

Dean laughs softly. "You'd do that f'r me?"

"Gladly." Something creaks softly, and Dean closes his eyes, leaning back into the grass, and finding his heart aches when Cas says, "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Too late."

"What?"

"Got in a fight, don't worry." Dean chuckles, resting his hand against his forehead. "I won, so no big."

Cas is quiet for a long time before he says, "Dean, if you need me to come pick you up, I will."

Dean opens his eyes and thinks about it. It'd save him from having to sleep off his inebriation in the truck, and get him away from Alastair and Lilith. He could get Bobby to bring him out here to pick the truck up in the morning. It'd piss Alastair off that he ducked out on his duties, but maybe no one would even notice he was missing amidst all the kids and chaos.

But a voice tugs at Dean's brain, whispering softly, _you don't deserve to be saved_. He's a violent thug, he broke a kid's nose tonight and left that kid in tears while his so-called 'friends' laughed and cheered. He's a drunk at sixteen, trying to numb himself with booze, just like the father he so rarely hears from. He abandons his girlfriend for these parties, he fights with his real friends because of them, and he's throwing away his future for this?

Not that he had much of a future anyway.

"Dean," and Cas sounds abnormally loud in his ear, his voice breaking over the single syllable, and Dean realizes he's spoken all of this aloud.

"Shit, Cas, I'm-"

"No." Cas sniffles, and Dean wonders if he's made his friend cry, and if so, why someone like Cas would ever cry over someone like him. "Dean, I'm coming to get you. Okay?"

"What about-"

"I'll take Gabe's car, no one will even miss me. Just tell me where you are, and I'll be there in twenty."

Dean takes a few deep breaths, then tells him.

Cas is there in fifteen.

When he helps Dean stand, supports him with a hand around his waist, Dean leans his head into Cas's shoulder, and wonders if this is what it's like to feel safe, and protected. He wouldn't know. He's always the one doing the protecting.

Cas's hand tightens, gripping Dean's t-shirt taut around his hip, and Dean hopes he didn't say all of that aloud too.

**June 10th, 2006**

Dean makes macaroni and cheese for lunch, and though Sam whines about having it _again_, Cas actually seems pretty pleased.

"I've never had it out of a box before," Cas says, and even though it's just another reminder that he and Dean aren't exactly equals, Dean still finds himself laughing and telling Cas to eat up.

Sam wolfs his down before running upstairs to do whatever it is twelve year-olds do by themselves, and because Dean knows Sam will be hungry again in an hour, he quickly cleans the kitchen and puts the leftovers in a bowl in the fridge, just enough to keep Sam from tearing the pantry apart before dinner. Cas watches all of this with a little smile, and insists on cleaning his own bowl.

"You've never cleaned a bowl in your life," Dean teases.

Cas shrugs. "Maybe that's why I want to."

Once the dishes are done, Cas follows Dean down to his basement bedroom, and immediately heads for the old record player, carefully flipping through Dean's records. He chooses Boston's self-titled album, and Dean flops down onto his bed with a grin as music fills the room.

"Did you pick that at random, or did you finally realize I have perfect taste?" Dean stretches out on the sheets, grinning when Cas drops down next to him.

"You've kind of got a limited selection, Dean," Cas says, smirking up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. "It's this, or borrowing one of Sam's CDs."

"Nope," Dean says quickly, mirroring Cas's position. "Nuh-uh, not happening. There will be no Disco whatevers playing in my room."

"They're called Panic! at the Disco, Dean, and a little branching out wouldn't hurt you."

"Nope, this is my sanctuary, and that band name is terrible, so their music must be terrible."

Cas turns and raises an eyebrow. "Because 'Led Zeppelin' is such a great name."

"Hell yeah it is." Dean grins.

They fall silent, letting the music swell and take over, washing the room in guitars and drums and noise. Dean's foot starts to twitch in time, until Cas's foot stretches over to press against him, forcing him to still. It's comfortable, the two of them laying side by side on the bed, Cas's toes pressed up against the arch of Dean's foot.

Maybe too comfortable.

Dean swallows. "So when are you gonna meet Lisa?" he asks, his voice too loud. Cas withdraws his foot, and Dean pretends it doesn't feel like a loss.

"Is she back in town?" Cas answers, eyes on the ceiling. The fan blades are spinning above their heads, keeping the air moving and adding a low-volume hum underneath the music. "Mother flew out to Louisiana this morning, and Michael's in Portland for the rest of the week, so whenever Lisa's ready, so am I."

Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket and immediately sends a text saying as much to Lisa. Cas laughs softly, shaking his head, and Dean narrows his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing, just…" Cas glances at Dean briefly, then shifts, rolling over onto his side. "You never told me how you finally asked Lisa out."

Dean furrows his brow, carefully studying Cas's face. It's not a very interesting story: Lisa had ended up in both Dean's biology and geometry classes. He took the opportunity to get to know her better, and to befriend her, and her friend Victor in order to have a better idea of whether or not they were dating each other. It took four months of harassment and teasing from Charlie, Jo, and Pam for Dean to finally work up the courage to approach Lisa during lunch and invite her out for ice cream. Luckily, she had already decided that she found him charming, and happily accepted.

Dean relays this to Cas, who smiles slightly and closes his eyes. His head is pillowed on his bicep, and Dean is acutely aware of just how close Cas's knee is to his own thighs.

"It's funny," Cas says, apparently completely unaware of how much heat is radiating from his body, like a beacon everywhere they're almost-but-not-quite touching. "I can tell you to suck it up and ask a girl out and not care if she rejects you, but I can't take my own advice."

Dean moves to mirror Cas's position on his side, putting a little more space between them as he does so. "You got a girl you wanna date?"

Cas opens his eyes, and Dean has to blink a little to readjust to that astute gaze. "No," Cas says slowly, thinking about it. "Not exactly. But, were I to find one, I can't promise I could be as bold as you."

Clearly he's lying about there not being a girl - there's _always_ a girl- but Dean opts not to call him on it. Instead, he takes a deep breath before offering up his cheekiest grin. "C'mon, Cas. Don't make me do this."

"Do what?"

"Remember? 'No homo, but you're fucking hot.' We don't need to have that conversation again, do we?"

Cas's eyes flicker to Dean's lips before his cheeks turn red. "No," Cas mumbles, turning his gaze to Dean's blue bedspread, picking at a hole in the fabric. "I remember."

Dean can feel heat climbing up his neck and into his face, because he can remember too. That accidental kiss that maybe wasn't so accidental, but Cas doesn't know that and he doesn't _need_ to know that, and Dean would really be better off if he could convince himself that it really _had_ been an accident after all.

It doesn't matter anyway, Dean tells himself. He's dating Lisa now, and apparently Cas has somebody in mind too. Neither of them are gay and it was just a stupid drunk accident.

"So yeah," Dean says, rolling onto his back again, just to have an excuse not to look at Cas. "You're a dreamboat, everybody knows it. Any girl you ask would have to be blind not to say yes."

"Yeah," Cas says softly, "I guess." Dean can feel him shifting on the bed, the springs creaking in protest, but he resolutely keeps his eyes on the ceiling fan, following a single blade until his head starts to hurt. Cas clears his throat. "I don't really have time to date anyway, between running and getting my schoolwork done."

"I managed," Dean offers cheerfully. "I don't run, of course, but I have the garage. Lisa understands."

"You didn't do much schoolwork either, according to Charlie." Cas probably doesn't mean for it to sound so accusatory, but Dean tenses anyway, finally turning to meet Cas's eyes.

"I did enough," Dean says tersely, frowning. Cas squints and tightens his jaw.

"Enough partying, maybe," and that's _definitely_ accusatory, but it's not one Dean can fight against, after Cas went to the trouble of rescuing him from Seaside at two in the morning. Instead, Dean has the dignity to lower his gaze and take a few deep breaths.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Dean-"

"No, Cas. You know why I work with Alastair." Dean forces himself to laugh, grinning easily, and really it's no wonder he got this 'promotion' within Alastair's crew. He's so damn good at pretending to be happy, after all. "Besides, what's the point of school anyway? Not like it's gonna do me any good."

Guitars and drums fill up the empty space while Cas gapes, before he sits up and shakes his head. "Dean, what are you talking about?"

"Best I'll get is work at Bobby's garage, maybe some shifts at the Roadhouse. Why shoot for more when I know I won't get it?"

"Dean," Cas breathes, "you have an incredible artistic talent. Are you really telling me you'd throw that away?" When Dean doesn't respond, Cas huffs. "On what? Parties with strangers?"

The immediate urge is to throw a punch, to put his knuckles right in Cas's mouth, but Dean refrains, tells himself to save it for the next house party. Instead, he sits up, glaring at Cas, who glares right back.

"Thought you knew me better than that," Dean says, voice low and tight.

"I do," Cas snaps right back. "But you can't tell me you're giving up your entire future just to protect Sam for a few years." Suddenly Cas's eyes go wide, just before they soften. "Unless… it's not just for a few years?"

Dean blinks at Cas, lips parted in surprise. For some reason, Dean honestly didn't expect Cas to figure it out so quickly. Maybe it's because Cas isn't around all the time, because until a couple weeks ago they did all their communicating online, but Cas still managed to reach right in and find the bloody heart of the matter, leaving Dean breathless and uncertain. Cas watches him closely, his expression slowly falling apart until he reaches over and puts a hand on Dean's chest.

"Dean," Cas whispers, "it doesn't have to be you _or_ Sam. You don't have to keep making these sacrifices."

"Yes I do," Dean answers, just as soft. "Dad's child support payments are still unpredictable, and Mom needs help with the bills. I'm the man of the house, I need to help her, and I need to help Sam."

"Who says you're the man of the house?" Cas says. "You're sixteen. You're not a man."

"Old enough to get a job and help Mom keep food in the house."

"Shit, Dean," and Cas must be upset if he's resorted to swearing, "what about college? You're just not even going to _try_ and get into college?"

"Why should I?" Dean snaps. "There won't be enough money for both me and Sam to go, and Sam's got bigger dreams. He should be allowed to chase them, shouldn't he?"

"So should you!" Cas is gripping both of Dean's shoulders now, and Dean hadn't realized how close they were, that he can't really see or focus on anything but the sheen in Cas's eyes, the pink anger in his skin. "Dean, Sam can get scholarships. He's an athlete, for all you know schools will be falling over themselves to court him!" Cas puts a hand over his face and draws back, taking a deep breath. "What does Sam want to do?"

"Law," Dean answers promptly. "He wants to be a lawyer, help out kids and families like ours."

"That's a pretty big dream," Cas says, the corners of his lips twitching up. "And what do you want to do?"

Now, Dean hesitates. He meets Cas's eyes, then immediately switches to staring at the wall behind him. "I want to…" he starts slowly, chewing on his lower lip. "I… I just want to make sure Sam-"

"Nope." And Cas is in Dean's space again, a hand pressed firmly over his mouth. Dean's breath hitches before he protests, but Cas leans in even closer, so that Dean has no choice but to meet Cas's eyes. "There has to be something _you_ want to do, something separate from Sam. So tell me."

But when Cas removes his hand, Dean can only keep staring. "I don't… know," he says quietly, after a long silence. The album has run itself out, skipping over white noise, but neither of them bother to get up and change the album, or even just to lift the needle. "I've never thought about it."

"You should," Cas suggests. "I don't think Sam wants your life to revolve around him. And I don't think your mother wants that for you either."

Dean opens his mouth to argue, but stops short when he remembers his birthday earlier this year. Mary had taken the day off and baked him a pear pie, before taking him to meet his friends down to the arcade in Seaside. On the drive home, while Dean had still been happy and full, he'd told her about Bobby's promise, that he'd start working in the garage that week, and he wanted to give her half of each paycheck.

Mary had refused, point blank. She'd said she'd prefer him to focus on school before worrying about work, and if he really wanted a job, then he should at least spend the money on himself. Dean had quietly agreed.

But when groceries started magically appearing in the pantry, Mary hadn't said a word.

"I'll think about it," Dean says weakly. "Okay?"

Cas watches him closely for a few moments, then gets up off the bed. He pauses by the record player to lift the needle, then grabs Dean's sketchbook and flips through the pages. Dean tenses when Cas stops, but then a smile lights up Cas's face, and Dean finds himself smiling too.

Cas sits back down next to Dean and hands the sketchbook over, still grinning. "Think about art classes, Dean," he says, tapping on the page. It's an ink drawing of Kyriel, and it's only with Cas sitting next to him that Dean realizes he's completely modeled the character after his friend.

"Whatever you say, Cas," and he means it to sound cocky and dismissive, but it comes out shy. Eager for a distraction, Dean crosses his legs and places the sketchbook on his lap, pulling his pencil out of the coiled wire and carefully adding gray shadows to Kyriel's coat. Cas stretches out on the bed behind him, his toes toying with the belt loops on Dean's jeans.

Again, this is far too comfortable.

But Dean just keeps his face down, to hide his blush, and says nothing.

**June 12th, 2006**

"Don't you fellas have anywhere better to be?"

Dean slings an arm over the back of the booth and grins up at Ellen. She remains unimpressed, her hands on her hips and an eyebrow raised, but Dean's knows her too well to be intimidated. "Is there really a finer establishment in Sileas than the Roadhouse?"

"Depends what you're here for."

"Lunch date."

Ellen's other eyebrow raises as she glances across the table at Cas, who is staring out the window at the ocean down the hill. Dean laughs abruptly. "Jesus, Ellen, no! We're meeting Lisa here."

"Lunch date for three?" Ellen says skeptically. It's only when Cas turns and fixes her with an ethereal smile that she finally loses the frown and says, "All right, then. I'll bring some milkshakes out when she gets here."

"You know how I like 'em," Dean jokes, but only succeeds in making Ellen's frown return. As soon as she walks away, Dean pouts at Cas. "How come she likes you more than me?"

"Everybody likes me more than you," Cas says flatly, turning back to the window. It's gray outside, and windy, leaving the water almost black, so Dean's not sure what he finds so fascinating out there. It rains a lot in Oregon. It probably rains a lot wherever Cas lives too. So what?

Dean manages to keep that to himself though. He's trying to be on his best behavior, since Lisa and Cas both mean so much to him. It leaves him nervous for several reasons, though his biggest concerns are the possibilities that they'll either hate each other, or they'll like each other too much.

He's pretty sure they won't hate each other. Lisa is sweet and sunny and laughs at Dean's jokes, and while Cas is more dry and kinda quiet, sometimes he laughs at Dean's jokes too. They both like Dean, at the end of the day, so there's really no reason they won't like each other.

He is genuinely concerned about Lisa swooning over Cas, though. Every other girl he knows has done it. Even Charlie, and it turns out she's pretty gay. And Dean occasionally catches himself studying the bridge of Cas's nose, the dip of his chin, the length of his neck, though he likes to tell himself that it's all in the name of art. And that it's not weird that he likes drawing Cas so much. Or that he ends up heavily basing his favorite characters on Cas.

Totally not weird.

To be honest, though, Cas looks like a painting right now, brooding in the dim light, his hand tucked under his chin. Dean's hands almost ache for a pen, even if all he does is sketch this onto a napkin, something to help him remember how to capture this moment in his sketchbook later. He's only shaken out of his latest Study of Castiel Milton when someone clears their throat next to the table, and Cas turns to smile.

"Hello," Cas says, scooting out of the booth and extending his hand. "You must be Lisa."

"How'd you guess?" Lisa teases. She takes Cas's hand to shake, though there's something off about her smile. Dean blinks and decides it doesn't matter as Lisa slides in next to him and leans in for a quick kiss. "This guy hasn't been telling stories about me, has he?"

"Only good ones," Cas promises.

"Same for you," Lisa says earnestly. "I mean, honestly, I'm sorry it took so long for us to get together. Dean didn't shut up about you all year."

Dean makes a face at her when Cas smirks, looking a dozen kinds of pleased with himself. "Why'd you have to go and tell him that?" Dean groans.

Luckily, Ellen chooses that moment to arrive with a tray of milkshakes, setting them on the table before turning to Lisa and saying, "Don't you know you're too pretty for a lug like Dean?"

Lisa giggles when Dean protests. Cas is still smirking when he says, "That's okay, Dean's used to spending time with people who are prettier than he is."

"That so?" Dean challenges, only realizing it's a trap once the words are out of his mouth and Cas breaks into a grin.

"Of course," Cas says, "you spend so much time with me, after all."

"You're hilarious," Dean says, rolling his eyes. His arm drops to Lisa's shoulders, pulling her in close to his side, and she smiles at him before taking a sip of her milkshake.

"So, Cas," she says, "tell me about yourself."

Turns out, Dean didn't have to be worried. Lisa and Cas take over the conversation for a while, but while Dean stays quiet, Lisa intertwines their fingers under the table and turns to smile at him on occasion, never forgetting his presence. Dean feels something settle inside him, knowing that Lisa and Cas get along, but not in a way that means they'll be eloping to Vegas anytime soon.

They share a brownie after lunch, and Lisa casually comments, "I've never known guys to be as close as you guys are."

Dean takes a rather large bite, leaving Cas to ask, "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Lisa pauses to swallow and set her fork aside. "Dean talked about you _all the time_. Seriously." She laughs softly, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder, ignoring the way his eyes go wide. "When you sent him that expensive colored pencil set for his birthday? He spent about two weeks talking about how much he loved it and how happy he would've been just to get a card from you. At that point, I didn't even know he could draw!" Again, she laughs, her smile bright against the gray clouds outside.

"You were just friends then," Cas supplies, resting his chin on his hand. Lisa nods, and Cas's eyes dart to Dean. "Well, he sent me a very kind gift for my birthday. I thought it only right to return the favor."

"Dude." Dean snorts. "It was a drawing of Ky and Jen. It cost me nothing. Those pencils were over a hundred bucks!"

"Didn't I tell you value was subjective?" Cas frowns and shakes his head. "That drawing took time and determination, and you did it for me. Frankly, I thought the pencils weren't enough, but what could I do?" He spreads his hands out in front of him and wiggles his fingers. "My hands are not as talented as yours."

"I would've been happy with the phone call," Dean says, completely sincere. Their phone calls over the school year had been few and far between, but Dean had still been delighted every time his phone lit up with Cas's name. "Besides," Dean adds with a smirk, "I don't think you have any idea how talented my hands are."

Cas arches an eyebrow. "What do you mean, I've seen your… oh," he trails off and rolls his eyes when Dean laughs. "Put up or shut up, Dean."

"I dunno, Cas, I think you underestimate yourself." Dean reaches over the table and grips Cas's wrist, tugging him closer. "You've got those delicate, upper-class hands. Gotta be somethin' you can do with 'em."

"Not that you'd know anything about what my hands are capable of," Cas shoots back, smirking as he pulls out of Dean's grip.

"Maybe I'd like to find out."

"You talk a big game." Cas grins. "Are you sure you're ready to actually play?"

Dean barks out a laugh. "Blow me, Cas."

"You first."

"_Guys_!"

Both Dean and Cas jump when Lisa interrupts them, and only now does Dean realize he's still leaning over the table, his fingertips brushing Cas's. Blushing, Dean leans back in his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. Cas turns to stare out the window again, and only then does Dean turn to smile at Lisa. She studies him closely, her lips pursed as if she's trying to solve some sort of puzzle, and Dean's not sure what she's so confused about. Guys do this kind of posturing shit all the time, right? It's just like how he is with Victor.

Right?

Finally, Lisa smiles again, though it's small and shy. "I think we need to go, or we're gonna miss the movie," she says quietly, scooting out of the booth. Cas does the same, digging out his wallet and putting a bill under one of their empty milkshake glasses. Dean glares at him, but opts not to fight about it in front of Lisa. Instead, he smiles as Cas leans in to hug her, as she returns the affection and shakes his hand.

"I'm glad I got to meet you," Cas says, before pointing at Dean. "Treat him right."

"Of course," Lisa responds, her nose twitching with offense. Dean slips an arm around her waist and gently shoves Cas's shoulder.

"She's not the one you have to worry about," Dean jokes. Lisa shifts under his arm, and Cas just nods slowly.

"If you say so." Cas takes a deep breath, then gives a short, awkward wave. "Enjoy your movie," he says, turning to leave. Lisa calls a good-bye to his retreating back before quickly wrapping both arms around Dean's chest and pulling him into a tight hug, her head buried in his shoulder. Dean laughs softly, running a hand through her hair.

"What's this about?"

"Nothing," she mumbles into his shirt before lifting her head. "What are we going to see?"

For some reason, Lisa initiates an aggressive make-out session in the back of the theater. Dean actually hasn't seen the new X-Men film yet, and even though Charlie had nothing good to say about it, he'd still wanted to watch it himself and come to his own conclusions.

But then Lisa takes his hand and places it under her shirt, under her bra, and he's never gotten this far with her before. A little over-the-shirt action sometimes, but to actually be able to feel warm skin, to play with a nipple, to hear the little sounds she makes... there's no way Dean's saying no to _this_, even for the X-Men.

Lisa stays handsy and affectionate once the movie's over, as they hang out at the beach, then go out for dinner. Her fingernails playing under Dean's shirt, her hand tucked in the back pocket of his jeans, and Dean's not sure what brought all this on, but he's certainly not going to fight it.

The best part comes later, at their spot on top of the hill, when Lisa shyly takes her shirt off before leaning in for a kiss. Dean has no idea what he did to deserve this, but he happily returns the favor, and they fog up the windows with curious hands and heavy breaths. It doesn't go further than that, but mostly Dean's just happy to finally know that Lisa wears cute patterned bras that contrast her tan skin, and that she liked the dusting of freckles on his shoulders.

Dean thinks that maybe it's time to tell her he loves her. They've been together long enough, haven't they? She makes him smile, she's warm and sweet and perfect… what's not to love?

But then they've redressed and she's kissing him good-bye outside her father's house, and with a brilliant smile and a brush of their hands, the moment is gone.

**June 17th, 2006**

Charlie and Jo are leaning against a tree, sharing an old copy of _Hush_, when Dean arrives at the park. It's a pleasant morning, though the gray sky in the distance is warning them to stay inside after lunch. Sam jumps out of the bed of the truck and helps Sarah down before darting off to the grassy playing field. Sarah's figured out how to keep up with Sam pretty well, and Dean's wondering if she'll join a girls' soccer league soon. She's good enough.

Lisa steps out of the passenger side and takes Dean's hand before they walk over and take a seat next to Charlie and Jo. Dean flicks the corner of the book and makes a face. "Lee draws the weirdest women."

"I _know_," Charlie groans, draping the book over her face in distress. "He's almost as bad as Liefeld. But Loeb wrote it and it's so good and I'm so _mad_ that he teamed up with _Lee_." She makes another, gutteral noise of disgust, making Jo and Lisa laugh, before handing the book over to Dean. "At least that kiss turned out okay."

Dean takes it and studies the drawing of Catwoman kissing Batman, then glances up at Charlie, a little smile playing at his lips. "I dunno. I guess it's okay, if you like Catwoman with Batman. Doesn't she kiss Ivy in this too?"

Charlie jerks the book out of his hands with a fierce glare, which only makes Dean break out in a grin. He's been good, keeping her secret until she tells him not to, but it's hard to resist teasing her sometimes. Besides, Lisa is slapping his shoulder and calling him a perv, so obviously he's the one who comes off looking bad.

Charlie hides her face behind the book anyway, and Jo takes the opportunity to lean over and poke Dean in the ribs. "Hey. Dean. Big brother. Best friend since we were in diapers."

Dean pushes her away and rubs at his side while Lisa giggles unhelpfully. "What do you want, Joanna Beth?"

"I still need somebody to drive me to the Panic! at the Disco concert in Portland." Jo pushes out her lower lip and widens her eyes, looking pitifully up at Dean. "Mom bought extra tickets so whoever drove me wouldn't have to sit out in the car."

Dean grimaces and shakes his head. "No way. Sammy was already bugging me about it, but I refuse to contribute to the decimation of music."

"Sam can have one of the extra tickets if you take us!"

"No means no."

Jo sighs, heavy with disappointment, and Charlie reappears from behind her book to sympathetically pat Jo's shoulder. "I'd take you," Charlie says, "if I had a car."

"That's unhelpful," Jo says drily. Dean raises an eyebrow at Charlie; as far as he knew, she was uninterested in that emo punk shit. Maybe not as disgusted by it as Dean, but definitely not a fan either. Charlie meets his eyes briefly, then hides behind her book again.

"Okay," Dean says, turning to grin at Lisa. "I'll take you and Sam if Lisa can be my plus one."

"Of course!" Jo exclaims, at the same time Lisa shakes her head and says, "No way."

"Why not?" Jo pouts, reaching out to take Lisa's hands. "Come on! Help me, Lisa Braeden, you're my only hope!"

Lisa laughs, squeezing Jo's hands before gently pushing her away. "I could probably put up with the music, but let's face it: there's no way my dad is letting me go to _Portland_, with _Dean_."

"Sam and I would be there too," Jo protests, but Lisa is still shaking her head.

"Nope. And this is at night, right? Yeah, my dad is warming up to Dean, but he's not _that_ warmed up yet."

Jo crosses her arms over her chest as Dean laughs and leans over to kiss Lisa's temple. As Jo slouches over, deeply involved in her problem-solving, Dean kicks Charlie's knee until she peers at him over the top of her book. "You got the _Long Halloween_, right?"

"Of course, you wanna borrow it?"

"Hell yeah, Tim Sale is my-"

Jo sits up straight, her face lit up with a smile as she exclaims, "Invite Cas!"

Dean raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Cas!" Jo crawls over and puts her hands on Dean's shoulders, shaking him. "Cas can keep you company at the concert, that way you won't be so bored you ruin everybody's good time!"

"Now wait a damn minute," Dean says, gently pushing Jo off him. "I didn't even say I'd take you, now I'm ruining everybody's good time?"

"I'll pay for gas," Jo offers.

"Nope, that means your mom will pay for gas, and she already paid for the tickets."

Jo takes a deep breath, then yells for Sam, and Dean knows the argument's over. He can refuse Jo all day long, taunting and teasing to see what she's willing to give before finally shutting the door and proclaiming that no price is high enough. Sam, though? Dean would do anything for Sammy.

And he doesn't appreciate Jo using that against him.

"Cheat," he mutters, but Jo just grins her most charming grin when Sam and Sarah take a seat on Lisa's other side.

"Sam, Dean's being an asshole and I need you to talk some sense into him."

"I'm not your personal chauffeur, Joanna Beth!" Dean snaps, but Sam just shakes his head. His hair flops out onto his ears and forehead, and Dean tries to do some quick math in his head, determine if he can pay for Sam's next haircut himself or if he'll have to ask Mary for money.

"What's he being an asshole about?" Sam asks.

"He doesn't want to take us to see Panic! at the Disco."

"_What_?!" And Dean groans, because now Sam is pulling that wounded puppy look, big hazel eyes and pathetic little frown. "C'mon, Dean! You can just take Lisa with you and make out in the back for all we care, all we need is a ride!"

Lisa laughs, hiding it behind her hand, and Dean can't believe she's being so unhelpful. "Lisa's dad won't let her come."

"Cas, then!"

Everyone except Lisa snorts at the same time. Charlie is shaking behind her book, and Jo clamps a hand over her mouth, though that fails to keep her eyes from glittering mischieviously. Dean remains confused until Sarah rolls her eyes and nudges Sam. "Are you suggesting your brother make out with _Cas_ all night?" she says, and she sounds so logical for a twelve year-old that it's almost funny. But then Dean remembers a clear night last June, with a drunken kiss that meant nothing, and yet he can feel his ears burning as his friends and his brother snicker at him.

Lisa's the only other one not laughing. Instead, she's looking at Dean, her eyes climbing over his face and neck, as he pointedly avoids looking back at her.

"You know what I mean," Sam finally says, waving off everyone's laughter. "You and Cas can hang out in the back and talk shit about the band or whatever. I don't care. Just, please?" He crawls forward, begging his brother with a cheesy plea and an exaggerated pout. Jo scoots over to join him, a chorus of "Please, please, please?" and Dean throws his hands up.

"Fine!" he snaps, pushing both of them out of his space. "Fine, fucking fine, I'll fucking talk to Cas and if he says yes, then I'll take you guys to the concert, all right? But only if he says yes!" This piece of fine print doesn't seem to matter, however, since Sam and Jo have already exchanged high fives and started cheerfully singing that stupid song about shutting the goddamn door.

Dean wishes they would shut their goddamn mouths.

He's pulled out of his sulk when Lisa shifts next to him, getting to her feet and brushing grass off her shorts. He reaches for her hand, confused, but she gives him a small smile and says, "I'm just… a little warm. I think I'll go home."

It's perfectly mild, almost chilly, and Dean squeezes her hand. "I could give you a ride?"

"No, that's all right, it's a short walk." She smiles again and waves good-bye to everyone. Jo and Sam don't even notice, but Charlie finally lowers her book to her lap and cocks an eyebrow at Dean.

"What's that about?"

Dean shrugs, watching Lisa as she puts her hands in her pockets and keeps her eyes on the sidewalk, getting smaller and smaller as she gets further and further away. "No idea."

**June 18th, 2006**

"Wait," Dean laughs into the phone, tucked between his shoulder and his ear. "You've never been to a concert before?"

"Not a _rock_ concert," Cas says, sounding miffed when Dean laughs again. He sets his bowl of sauce down, pleased with the scent of basil and honey spreading throughout the kitchen, and puts his cell phone on speaker, so he can prepare the chicken and talk to Cas at the same time.

"Please, don't call these stupid assholes a 'rock' band. They are so far removed from rock," Dean scoffs, shaking his head.

Cas snickers, soft and thin through the phone's speaker. "Most modern music is a form of rock, Dean."

"Jimi and Janis are rolling in their graves," Dean mutters. "Well, I hate to make this band your first concert experience, so if you want to say no-"

"It sounds fun, actually." Cas laughs outright when Dean groans. "Come on, Dean, they're not terrible. The singer's pretty good."

"He's lame, the music is lame, the circus schtick is lame." Dean rolls his eyes, then takes a deep breath and forces himself to focus on his chicken, pouring the sauce on top. "Plus, they're totally gay."

Cas is quiet for a long moment, which leaves Dean feeling uncomfortable. There's shifting static and soft breaths coming through the speaker, so Dean knows he hasn't been hung up on, but he still feels an urge to apologize. Especially when he remembers Charlie.

"Not that there's anything from with that," Dean mumbles. Cas huffs into the speaker.

"No. There's not." An awkward pause. "No, okay, I'll come. Anna's been eyeing that concert too and if I go with you, then Gabe will have to go with her." Cas laughs softly. "I'd rather go with you guys than with Anna."

Dean smiles to himself, pleased, and places the chicken in the oven. Sure, he has to go to a concert he really doesn't want to go to, but at least with Cas, he'll have someone to talk to. To be entertained by. "All right, then. It's a date."

"No homo," Cas supplies, and they both laugh. The sound fills the kitchen, and between Cas's voice and the smell of honey-mustard chicken baking in the oven, Dean feels oddly at peace.

But peace never lasts.

"While I've got you here," Cas says slowly, sounding nervous, "I wanted to make a suggestion."

Dean chuckles softly, leaning over the kitchen counter and pulling the phone closer. "Well, I ain't a suggestion box, but go ahead."

"I thought it'd be fun if we went on a double date."

Dean frowns, eyebrows furrowed. "A double date?"

"Yeah. You and Lisa, and me and somebody else."

"Oh." Dean sits up and clears his throat. "Well. I thought you might have somebody you liked." His laugh sounds tight, even to his own ears, and he's not quite sure why there's a sinking feeling in his chest. "Who's the lucky lady?"

"Bela."

Something must be stuck in Dean's ear, because there's no way he heard that right. "Bela," he repeats. "Bela _Talbot_?" Cas hums an affirmation, and Dean's brain flatlines, too stunned to speak. Yeah, sure, there had been that whole thing last year, Bela showing up before the fight in a slinky dress with Cas in tow, but Cas had said he didn't really like her and Dean had kissed him and then Cas left Bela in the dust. He couldn't have changed his mind about her in less than a year, right? Especially because Dean knows for a fact that Cas goes to a private school on Long Island, and he's pretty sure Bela goes to school in London, so it's not like they had a lot of time to spend together and decide they liked each other.

Right?

"Dean?" comes from the speakerphone. "The service here is shit, can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Dean croaks, and anger pounds between his temples. Bela's a slut and a bitch, someone who gets a kick out of Dean's violent after-school activities. She's manipulative and arrogant, and he doesn't want her anywhere near Cas. Or Lisa. Or any of his other friends. "Why the fuck would you go on a date with _Bela_, Cas?"

"She's not as bad as you think she is," Cas says, and Dean can practically see him rolling his eyes, and the anger spreads down to his jaw, his teeth clenching. That's easy for Cas to say. Once upon a time, Dean punched a kid so hard, a piece of his tooth got lodged in Dean's finger. Bela had asked if she could have it, as a momento.

"She's a bitch," Dean spits, his hand slowly turning into a fist. "She's crazy and bloodthirsty and all she wants is your dick and your money, you have to know that."

"You don't know anything about her, Dean," Cas protests coldly.

"I know the worst things, and that's enough for me."

"People change-"

"What the fuck, Cas, do you really wanna fuck the bitch that badly?"

The line goes silent. Panic rises in Dean's throat as he replays the conversation, as he's struck by the image of Cas doing exactly that, of Bela kissing Cas and going down on him and making him her bitch, just another poor sex-craved guy on a lady's leash…

Dean flips his phone shut and tosses it aside. Words are getting tangled on his tongue anyway, choking him, and he feels like his face is on fire. He rubs a hand over his eyes and groans. He fucked up, probably. Logic is foggy and distant, barely visible through a red haze, but Dean knows that Cas isn't some sex-starved asshole, and he knows that Cas isn't stupid enough to fall for Bela just because she puts out.

But that knowledge is buried under fear and nausea and anger.

It's too much, this out-of-nowhere, overwhelming sense of disgust. Dean digs his nails into his forehead, then reaches for his phone. He's never done this before. Usually, he waits for the jobs to come to him and does them reluctantly, but right now… he needs to drink until he doesn't feel, and he needs to punch someone he doesn't give a fuck about. He needs a release.

His phone starts to vibrate in his hand, and the screen glows with Cas's name. Something tugs at Dean's chest, but it's just another sort of pain, so he clicks the button to ignore the call. Then, he opens up his address book and dials Alastair's number.

Nausea reappears when Alastair's voice slithers from the speaker, "Why, hello, Dean. What can I do for you on this fine evening?"

Dean takes a deep breath and clears his throat, trying to sound gruff and unaffected as he says, "You got any jobs tonight?"

Alastair laughs, low and pleased. "Can you make it to Astoria by seven? This kid has a large basement. I'd like to see what kind of profits you can bring in."

Dean takes another breath and checks the clock. He's got enough time to finish dinner and set it aside for whenever Sam gets home. "Yeah. I can do that. Address?"

Alastair laughs again, and Dean pretends it doesn't chill him to the bone.

**June 23rd, 2006**

Lisa's nervous.

She's trying to hide it behind smiles and affectionate touches and fidgeting with her blouse, but Dean can still tell. And even though he takes her hand and squeezes it, he can't bring himself to tell her it's okay, or that this will be fun, or any of those patronizing lies that he should probably tell her.

Dean hasn't spoken to Cas since their fight about Bela, though that's not to say Cas hasn't tried. There are eight unheard voicemails on Dean's phone, and a decent collection of ignored texts, but Dean is too ashamed of himself to respond. It doesn't help that his stomach starts aggressively churning every time he sees Cas's name, that his temples pound whenever he thinks of Cas taking Bela on dates, touching her thigh under the table, her lipstick on his neck.

Lisa makes a soft noise and pulls her hand out of Dean's grip, smiling weakly when he glances at her. "You okay?" she asks, reaching over to put her hand on Dean's shoulder. "You've got that twitch in your jaw going, like you're mad about something."

"I'm fine," Dean says, turning to stare stubbornly at the sidewalk beneath his feet. "I'm glad you could come with me tonight."

Alastair won't be pleased when Dean tells him his new prize bull isn't willing to fight tonight, but it's just this once. Just to show Lisa his 'job,' help her understand the way Cas does. Because it's not fair that Cas knows this and Lisa doesn't. Because he's supposed to be in love with Lisa, right? And that means he trusts her.

Yeah. Something like that.

Lisa folds her hands behind her back, shrugging. "I'm glad you finally told me what your super-secret job is," she says softly. "I've never really been to a party like this before."

Dean takes a short breath, squinting at the signs beneath the streetlights. "It'll be… fun," Dean tries, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. Lisa glances up at him, but quickly turns back to the sidewalk. Maybe she'll accept it as Dean being distracted, trying to find the right house.

It's easy enough to find the party once they turn up the hill. It's already spread out into the street, beer cans littering the lawn, kids playing tag in the cul-de-sac. Dean rolls his eyes, putting an arm around Lisa's shoulders to keep her close as they approach the front door.

The music is loud and thumping, the kind of shit that makes Dean clench his teeth and and all the muscles in his arms go tight. Lisa bounces a little, as if she recognizes the song, but she stays tight against Dean's side as they push through the crowd.

"D'you wanna drink?" Dean yells over his shoulder. He's sweating, a little short of breath, because there are too many people here and most of them are already drunk, and he doesn't want to leave Lisa alone and unprotected but at the same time, he's not going to make it through this without a drink or five. This is his third party since his fight with Cas. He's gotten into the routine now.

Lisa bites her lower lip and nods quickly. Dean takes her hand and tugs her along until they find the refreshments set up in the kitchen. Dean huffs slightly; some Jack Daniels, a few flavors of Smirnoff, a little Captain Morgan, and a shit-ton of store-brand soda. "Big spender," Dean remarks under his breath before turning to Lisa. "You don't have to drink booze if you don't wanna."

Lisa hesitates. "Well. I never have before," she says, forcing a smile. "Gotta live a little, right?" She glances over her shoulder, then takes one of the red plastic cups off the table, pouring a small amount of rum in the bottom before reaching for the cola. "Your boss lets you drink?"

Dean chuckles, turning away from her and taking his own cup, choosing straight whisky for himself. "Encourages it," he answers with a sigh. "And he's not exactly my boss, y'know? He's just…" Dean pauses, struggling the find the right description for Alastair, something that won't frighten Lisa. "Trying to turn a profit," he settles on, before taking a long drink.

Lisa watches him closely. "So… he buys the liquor for these parties?"

"At least." Dean empties his cup, then pours a little more, ignoring the way Lisa's eyebrows lift. "Depends on how much they pay, but sometimes he provides food, entertainment, even a location." When he first got involved in this endeavour, it was just buying the liquor and selling it for a higher price to kids too young to get it on their own. Then it evolved, as Alastair came up with new ideas and new prices and found new kids to sell to. Having Dean fight some wasted teenager and charging other wasted teenagers to watch, that's just the newest product on the line.

Dean downs another cup. Pours another cup. Lisa hasn't even touched hers yet.

It goes on like that for a while. Lisa sipping at her first cup, eyes on Dean as he downs drink after drink. The music only gets louder, the white noise of yelled conversations fading beneath a bass beat. A flurry of random faces, kids from school, recent graduates, not-so-recent graduates back for the summer, and at one point Dean recognizes Victor in the crowd, yells at him to come over. But Victor is closer to Lisa, who's still sitting with her legs crossed and her arms tucked in and her cup half-full, and they're both watching Dean with worried eyes.

"Maybe you should sit down, Dean," Victor says, and his hand is on Dean's shoulder, carefully guiding him back, but Dean stumbles out of his grip, falling back into a crowd. Next thing he knows, somebody is shoving him, Victor is yelling at everyone to take it easy, and everything is too loud, too close, too intense, and Dean's fist flies out and connects with someone's jaw. Somebody else grabs him from behind, probably Victor, but Dean scrambles free and attacks again, kicking and punching and growling. Space clears out around them, enough that Dean can breathe, because this feels _good_. His knuckles connecting with some stranger's cheekbone, leaving bruises and drawing blood, it's such a _relief_, because Dean can feel like he's in control for once. Like he's strong. Like he doesn't have to hold back his anger at Cas, at his Dad, his confusion about Lisa, his deeply-buried resentment towards...

The kid is crying now, blubbering incoherently, and when another hand carefully grips Dean's shoulder and pulls him back, Dean goes. Because this time, it's Alastair, and he's smiling that weird closed-lip smile, patting Dean on the back and telling the crowd that if they enjoyed that show, they should come to the next party and see it again.

Dean's still drunk, but his head feels clearer as he finally takes that seat Victor was offering him, and he smiles crookedly at Victor and Lisa.

But they don't smile back.

Lisa's eyes are wide and horrified, her mouth hidden by her hand. Victor is seated next to her, maybe a little too close, but Dean can't make himself get worked up about that. He's too zen after that fight. "What?" he says instead, leaning in to Lisa's neck. She stands before he gets there and runs her hands through her hair.

"I can't believe you just…" she mutters, and Dean's surprised he can hear her so well. What happened to all that noise? "He was… and you… and he was _crying_ and you've got blood on your hands and…" She rubs both hands over her face, then shakes her head. "I can't do this, Dean. I wanna go home. This isn't me and I don't want this to be you."

Dean frowns and furrows his brow. "Can't," he says, and when her face falls, he clarifies, "_I_ can't. You do whatever you want."

Lisa bites her lip and turns to Victor, who nods and stands up. "I'll take you home," he says, and Dean must give something away, straightening up or making a noise, because Victor holds a placating hand up and says to him, "It's late, I'll just make sure she gets home. Don't be like that. It's not like that."

Dean feels like his legs aren't working, but he continues frowning as Victor takes Lisa's elbow and leads her back out to the front room.

"Well, that was fun."

Dean turns and scowls as Bela enters the room, a sway in her hips and a smirk on her lips as she stares him down. "Don't mind me, love," she says, taking the seat Victor vacated. "I'm just enjoying the show. 'Dean Winchester Loses All His Friends,' truly a great tragedy." She giggles and takes a sip of her drink. "I'm a big believer in schadenfreude, y'know."

"That so," Dean slurs, leaning closer to her, practically growling. "You bring Cas?"

"No," Bela says primly, shaking hair off her shoulders. "I invited him, and he said no. I mentioned you might be here, and he still said no." She grins again. "He told me you two had a row, after all. I was trying to help."

Dean blinks at her, then sighs, all his aggression flowing out of him as he stares at her. She's gorgeous and rich, and her family is full of opportunities and connections. Of course Cas would want to date her. His family must love her. "You two are dating, then?"

Bela turns and stares at him before laughing aloud. "Are you joking?" When Dean just furrows his brow, she laughs again. "Please. We're just friends."

"Then why'd he wanna take you on a date?" Dean spits. Bela wrinkles her nose.

"Is that what this is about? Darling, why would it make you so angry that Cas wants to date me?" She flutters her eyelashes at him, leans into his space with a coy smile. Dean sits up straight, kicking his chair back to put more space between them.

"Because you're a bitch!" he snarls. "Because you'll use him up and leave him dry, and he deserves better than that!"

Bela raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lip twitching up. "He's a big boy, Dean, he can take care of himself. You, on the other hand?" Her eyes flick over him, and she wrinkles her nose again. "You need help."

"Fuck you," Dean snaps, but it's weak. Because he's weak. Because she's not wrong. The memory of Cas coming to pick him up in Seaside flickers through Dean's brain, and his hand is already pulling out his phone before he thinks of doing so. It's only when Bela smiles that he stops himself.

But her smile isn't flirtatious or amused. There's a kindness in it that Dean isn't used to, so he tilts his head and meets her gaze. "What're you lookin' at?"

Bela sighs and reaches over to put a hand on Dean's knee. The touch is light, intended to keep his attention and comfort him, which again strikes Dean as odd. "Can I offer a bit of free advice?" Bela asks, then continues without waiting for Dean to respond: "Call Cas. You're treating him like shit, and he deserves better than that."

Dean cringes at his own words being thrown back in his face. She's right. Cas deserves to be surrounded by people who will listen to him and make him laugh and keep him happy. He doesn't deserve Dean and his baggage and his shitty attitude.

"Why're you doin' this?" Dean asks, surprised by the rough tone of his voice. Bela shrugs and stands up.

"Cas and I became very close over the school year," she says. "Emails and phone calls. Lots of late night sharing time." She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. "I don't particularly care about you, but you're important to Cas, and he's important to me. So." She smiles cheekily and tilts her hips, spreading her hands out and wiggling her fingers. "Here we are!"

Dean takes a deep breath. "You'd do this but you don't wanna date him?"

Bela huffs. "No. I'm not allowed to actually be friends with a boy and not want to fuck him or date him? That's a particularly rank kind of bullshit coming from you, darling."

And again, she's right. Dean is friends with Charlie and Jo and Pam, and none of them have ever expressed a desire to date him. Sure, Pam flirts with him a lot, but she flirts with everyone a lot. Dean leans back in his chair and groans, running a hand over his face. "I'm too drunk for this shit."

"Then think about it," Bela responds, patting his shoulder. "See you around, Dean."

And she's gone, and the white noise of conversation returns at a volume high enough to make Dean's temples throb. He's such a fuck-up. Why is he such a fuck-up? He treats Cas like shit, he treats Lisa like shit… no wonder Lisa went off with Victor. At this rate, Dean wouldn't be surprised if Cas went off to wherever his dad is and never came back. Wouldn't blame him, either.

"Too fucking drunk for this," Dean mumbles to himself, and stumbles off to find a place to lie down.

**June 27th, 2006**

"Hello?"

Cas's voice is soft and scratchy, weighted down with sleep, and Dean tightens his grip on the steering wheel, hating the way it spreads over his shoulders like a security blanket. Tension starts to eke out of his muscles, and he takes a deep breath, but says nothing.

"Hello?" Still soft, but brighter now. More aware. Dean's breath comes short now, as he tries to get himself under control, just enough to say something, but all that comes out are quick, soft breaths, just this side of being a sob. God, he's a mess. He probably shouldn't even be driving, but he just… he just has to see Cas right now.

"Dean?" Cas whispers. "Dean, is that you? It's been _days_, what are you-"

"Can I come over?" Dean finally manages to spit out, just as he turns off the interstate into the resort's parking lot. "I fucked up, I know, just… please."

Cas is quiet. Dean pulls into a parking spot and rubs a hand over his face, trying to calm his breathing, trying to get the thrumming in his veins under control. He's not drunk enough for this, he's not drunk at all, and maybe that's why everything that happened tonight went down the way it did. Dean just can't stop fucking up, can he?

"Dean."

"Cas, _please_." Dean takes a shaky breath. "I'm already here, so."

Cas hesitates. "Are you drunk?"

A laugh makes its way out of Dean's mouth, but it doesn't sound anywhere near joyful. "Nah. Turns out I don't need booze to be a wreck."

There's noise on the other end, fabric rustling, doors closing, Cas swearing softly. "The elevator code is 6776. We're in room 1268, meet me there."

And fuck, isn't that just more proof that Dean doesn't deserve to be around someone like Cas? He yelled at the poor guy over some stupid chick, for no reason, then ignored him for over a week, and still. _Still_. If Dean calls in distress, Cas is ready and willing to be there. "Fuck," Dean chokes out, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. "Fuck, Cas, I'm sorry. You're too good for me, I'm sorry, I'm gonna go home."

He's already twisting the key in the ignition when Cas makes a quiet, frustrated noise and swears, "Dammit, Dean, don't play this game with me. Just get up here and we'll talk, okay? You're already here, right? Why waste the gas in your piece of shit truck?"

This time, Dean's laugh actually sounds real, and he manages to keep his smile on as he says, "Shut the fuck up, at least I have a car."

"Well, then, you're just so much cooler than me," Cas deadpans. "Get your ass up here."

Dean pauses, then pulls the keys out of the ignition with a sigh. "Okay. See you in a few."

However much of a relief it was to hear Cas's voice, it's even more of one to actually see Cas's face. A quiet, distant part of Dean notes this as strange, starts to wonder if it shouldn't be Lisa who brings this kind of comfort, but Dean quickly wraps himself up in the warmth and peace that comes with blue eyes and gentle hands, and the worry disappears. Instead, Dean smiles weakly and ruffles Cas's hair when he gets close enough to touch.

"You couldn't make it easy on me and stay in the bungalows again, could you?" he teases, his voice rough enough to make Cas's eyes flicker with concern. "That lady downstairs was watchin' me like a hawk."

"Are you sure you're not drunk?" Cas says slowly, giving Dean a once-over before gripping his shoulder and leading him further down the hallway.

"Nah. Just a bad night." Dean's breath hitches, but he manages to smile again as he takes in Cas's pajamas. An old white t-shirt, and sweatpants he must have outgrown only recently, since they show a decent amount of ankle. Dean's never seen Cas this dressed down, barefoot and bedhead, and he's flooded with affection for his friend. It soothes him like a balm at the same time it ignites the guilt all over again, and he grips at Cas's t-shirt, tugging to get his attention. "Cas. Cas, I wanna apologize."

"Don't," Cas says shortly, turning a corner, dragging Dean behind him. "I'm on vacation, I can sleep when I want."

"No, not for… well," Dean swallows. "Yes, for this, but also for what happened last week."

Cas slows to a stop, then turns to look at Dean. There's surprise on his face, and his fingers dig into Dean's bicep. "You don't have to," he says, refusing to meet Dean's gaze. Dean shakes his head, lifting his hand to Cas's shoulder.

"No, I do. I don't like Bela, but that doesn't mean I get to act like a shithead if you wanna be friends with her. Or," Dean swallows, staring at his shoes. "Or more than that."

"I don't want to be more than friends with her," Cas says quickly, releasing his grip on Dean's arm and running his hand through his hair. "I swear, I just… wanted to hang out without being a third wheel."

Dean lifts his head and blinks at Cas, who stares down at his own hands, picking at a fingernail. Now Dean really does feel like an asshole. "Man, I'm sorry."

"No," Cas says firmly, finally meeting Dean's eyes. "I should've been clearer in my intentions."

The air seems to crackle between them as Dean stays locked in Cas's stare. All those different shades of blue, both fierce and soft, and it's all intent on Dean. It only breaks when Dean's eyes flicker down to Cas's lips, and he realizes just how close they're standing, and Dean takes a deep breath before whispering, "A girl almost died tonight."

Cas furrows his brows, squinting in confusion. "What?"

"That's why I wanted to talk to you," Dean continues, his voice dropped below a whisper. Now that he's said it, all the comfort that came from Cas's presence drops away, and his hands start shaking again, his heartbeat a rising tempo. "I just wanted…" He trails off, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye. Cas reaches over to grip his wrist and tug, gently.

"Let's go to the roof. Okay?" Cas tugs on Dean's wrist again, a small smile on his face. "We can talk there."

Dean hesitates, but follows when Cas tugs again.

They slip through a door marked 'Employees Only,' then up a flight of steps to another door, marked 'No Entry.' Cas rattles the doorknob and forces the door open, blacktop spreading out under his feet as he leads the way out onto the roof. The wind whips furiously at their ears, bringing with it the smell of salt and sand, and Dean finds himself drawn to the ledge. He can see the tiny lights of Sileas from here, just down the hill, and the ocean goes on forever, black as the sky above. There's too many lights at the pool and tennis courts just below them to see stars up above, but Dean looks up anyway, to watch clouds move across the sky.

"Gabe showed me how to get up here," Cas says quietly, following Dean's gaze. "I don't even know how he figured it out, but I'm glad he did."

"Yeah," Dean breathes. He feels free up here, far away from all his problems, and he's able to swallow most his fears as he turns to Cas. "I was at a party tonight."

Cas nods, moving to sit on the blacktop. "I figured," he says as Dean copies him, sitting close enough that their knees touch. "Bela mentioned seeing you a lot lately."

Dean fidgets with his hands in his lap, staring at them. "Yeah. I fought with you, and then I fought with Lisa, and I just… everything went wrong, and I didn't know what to do." He runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head. "I'd go to parties and get drunk and beat people up and for a few moments it all seemed clear and fine, but then it'd go away, and I'd remember how I fucked things up. So I went to more parties, drank some more, fought some more. And tonight… the guy had an above-ground pool, y'know? You don't know," Dean shakes his head, chuckling humorlessly as he glances up at Cas, who simply looks back at him, his face a blank mask. "That's a poor people thing, isn't it? Anyway, a girl got too drunk and fell in. Another guy was drunk and held her down as a game. My friend Victor was there, he stepped in to pull her out and get her breathing again. But for a minute there…" Dean runs his hands through his hair once again, leaving it a mess, but his eyes are stinging, and there's so much going through his head that it's hard to separate one thought from another. "I thought she was going to die. And it would be partially my fault."

Cas's hand is on Dean's shoulder, squeezing hard enough that it hurts, and Dean actually looks up at him, confused when he sees narrowed blue eyes and a tight jaw. "It's not your fault, Dean," Cas says, and he looks so sincere that Dean almost believes him for a moment. Then, he remembers the role he's played in Alastair's business. Yes, Alastair is the leader, the head of operations. He convinces potential customers to buy from him, has expanded to helping them find locations and food and entertainment... but Dean is the muscle. The one who enforces the rules and punishes kids who can't keep up with Alastair's demands. And now, Dean is part of the advertised entertainment - pay a little cash, watch the wild boy kick somebody's ass. If anyone gets hurt, it's because of Dean. Because Dean can't control himself. Because-

"Dean, stop it." Cas shakes Dean's shoulder, then shifts onto his knees, putting his other hand on Dean's other shoulder and pulling him closer. "Dean, that girl is just fine, and none of this is your fault."

"But it is, isn't it?" Dean chokes out, embarrassed by the tremble in his voice. "I agreed to do this, didn't I? To hurt people? And Cas, sometimes I _like_ it. That's fucking sick, right?" Dean laughs softly, shaking his head. Cas's eyes are taking over his vision, soft and blue and comforting, and Dean closes his own eyes to get away from it. "Cas, I'm fucked up."

"No."

"Dammit, Cas, I appreciate the support," Dean laughs again, smiling crookedly. "But I don't really deserve it."

"Dean, shut the fuck up." And Cas pulls Dean in, wrapping his arms around Dean's shoulders and hugging him tight. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and breathes Cas in, and Cas smells so _normal_. Soap and laundry detergent and just a hint of peppermint. Dean hugs him back, clinging to his t-shirt, and lets that smell calm him.

"You were trying to protect your brother," Cas murmurs, shifting his hands, flattening his palms against Dean's back. "And your friends. You are noble and loyal and good, and someone took advantage of that, tried to twist it into something bad."

Dean listens, but the words don't sink in. "Didn't you hear the part where I like it?" Dean mumbles into Cas's shoulder. "Cas, lately it's felt like I can't get through the night without throwing a few punches." Reluctantly, he sits up, out of Cas's embrace, and stares out at the sky. "You can say that shit all you want, but I'm still fucking twisted. I'm still fucked up."

Cas sighs and shakes his head. "Dean, I don't care about that."

That's a surprise. Dean blinks at him, frowning. "Lisa does."

"Does Lisa understand the whole situation?"

Lisa knows that Dean works for Alastair. She knows that he's hired muscle and it gets him access to parties and other perks. She doesn't know that Dean got into it to protect his brother and the people he cares about.

Dean's silence seems to spell this out for Cas, who sighs and shakes his head. "Why are you so ashamed of your motives, Dean?" And, as if a dam has burst, Cas rubs his eyes and continues, "Why are you like this at all? 'I'm the man of the house,' you say. 'I have to take care of Sam. I have to pay for groceries.' Dean," and Cas's eyes are wide and glassy, his voice cracking as he says, "_None_ of that is your responsibility. You're _sixteen_. Didn't we discuss this before?"

"Yeah," Dean grunts. When he doesn't continue, Cas rolls his eyes.

"Dean, it's admirable that you want to take all of this responsibility on your own shoulders. I mean that. You're just..." Cas trails off for a moment, biting his lower lip, then closes his eyes. His voice is softer when he continues: "You're the best person I know. You're an inspiration. But at the same time, you deserve so much more. Don't," Cas takes a short breath, tilting his head. "Don't you _want_ more?"

Dean meets his eyes, trying to decide if Cas is serious, or just trying to make him feel better. He knows, in the back of his mind, that it's stupid to wonder - Cas isn't the type to lie, especially not to spare someone's feelings. But he can't help himself. How can someone like Cas see anything of worth in someone like Dean?

"I want to paint," Dean whispers without thinking. Cas leans forward, squinting slightly.

"Paint?"

"Yeah." Dean clears his throat, sitting up straight and fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. "I. I want to take art classes and learn how to paint. Maybe pottery too." He swallows, still staring at his lap. "My anatomy needs work. And clothes, I can't draw dresses. I want..." Dean sighs, lifting his head to look at Cas. "This is what I want. To be an artist. Whatever that means, it's what I want. But I can't have it."

Cas leans over and puts a hand on the back of Dean's neck. The touch is warm and soothing, and if Dean forgets to breathe for two seconds, when Cas's thumb brushes his hairline, then no one needs to know. "You can have anything you want, Dean," Cas says slowly, carefully. "You're clever and capable and talented. I," he swallows, "I'll help you, if you need me to."

"I don't need your money-" but Dean's cut off when Cas's other hand falls over his mouth. Goosebumps pop up on his skin as he breathes through his nose, smells the soap on Cas's hand.

"I mean, I'll help you find art classes. Help you get out of Alastair's business. Whatever you need, you can ask me, and I'll do everything I can to make it happen."

Cas lowers his hand, and he just looks so earnest. So concerned. His other hand is still pressed up against Dean's neck, and Dean realizes that just having someone to talk to, someone who will listen, and who is willing to help... just sitting here on this roof, telling Cas about the wishes he has trouble even admitting to himself, Dean feels better. Lighter, somehow. And he smiles before leaning over and gently pressing his lips against Cas's.

Like last year, Cas freezes. His hand grips the back of Dean's neck, but otherwise, he doesn't move. Part of Dean's brain is screaming at him, wanting to know what the fuck he's doing and why he would even _think_ of doing this again, but in dredging up those deeply buried dreams and laying them out for Cas to see, Dean found the same deeply buried curiosity that had driven him to try this last year.

And it's so strange that Cas pulls away and stares at him, eyes round like the moon, like he doesn't feel anything except surprise. Because again, just like last year, electricity shoots through Dean, from his lips to the tips of his fingers, leaving them numb. So Dean smiles, and Cas raises his eyebrows, lips parted.

"Lisa?" he finally manages to say. Dean blinks a few times, then laughs softly.

"No homo, remember?" he says. "You're a dude. Doesn't count."

Something flickers over Cas's face, but Dean hardly notices as he commits that kiss to memory, then tucks it away in the back of his mind, right next to last year's kiss, where he can forget about it and pretend it never happened, until he's ready to deal with the fact that he _wants_ to kiss his best friend, and likes doing so.

Because who needs that drama when Dean has so much else going on?

Cas clears his throat and starts to stand, brushing dirt off his sweatpants. Dean quickly follows, still smiling to himself. "So, are you okay?" Cas asks quietly, staring down at his hands as he fidgets with his fingernails.

Dean takes a deep breath, and one last look at Sileas off in the distance. His head feels clear for the first time in ages, and he didn't even have to resort to violence to get there. "I'm good," Dean says. "You?"

Cas lifts his head and smirks. "This wasn't about me."

"Nah, I fucked up though." Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and kicks at a stray pebble. "With the whole Bela thing. I don't want you to still be mad at me about that."

Cas rolls his eyes. "You've already apologized _multiple_ times, so you can shut the fuck up about it or I really will be mad." Dean laughs and follows as Cas heads back to the door. "Do you want to stay over?"

Dean blinks in surprise. "Am I allowed to?" he asks, when Cas manages to shake the door open again.

"Sure. Mother's back on tour with Uncle Zach, and Michael's in Portland for the week. It's just Gabe, Anna, and me." When they reach the second door, back on the twelfth floor, Cas turns and grins at him, toothy and pleased. "We can order breakfast and watch a movie in the morning."

Dean laughs again. "A porno?"

"Only if it comes up confidential on the bill."

"Jesus," Dean chuckles, pushing past Cas and back out into the hallway. "I fucking missed you, man."

Cas's smile softens into something content, and he swings an arm around Dean's shoulder as they head back to the room. If just for this moment, Dean feels confident that no matter what else happens in his life, at least he'll always have Cas. And that's better than nothing.

**June 28th**

The suite is so nice that even after sleeping on the couch in his jeans, Dean still feels great.

Gabe orders a breakfast of waffles and bacon, and Anna spends the whole meal staring at Dean like he's Harry Potter and she's his Ginny, but Cas kicks his siblings out after they eat, and he and Dean take over the main bedroom. Cas jokes about ordering _Brokeback Mountain_, but Dean kicks him and steals the remote to pick Aeon Flux instead.

And Dean feels great.

Up until about halfway through the movie.

Cas is spread out next to him on the bed, still in his pajamas, and he carefully nudges Dean with his foot before asking, "What are you gonna do about Lisa?"

Dean glances at him. "What do you mean?"

"Are you breaking up with her?"

"No," Dean says quickly, sitting up. "I mean, I don't want to break up with her, but y'know, she's the one who saw me lose it on some random partygoer, so the ball's in her court."

Cas rolls his eyes. "You're such a chickenshit. I've only met her once, but I'm pretty sure when a girl wants to break up with a guy, she just does it. So you need to call her, before she gets fed up and calls you."

Dean frowns. Cas has never dated anybody, and he's only ever kissed two people in his life, one of which is Dean himself. So what the hell does Cas know about it?

But at the same time, he's right. The longer Dean waits, the less chance he has of convincing Lisa to keep trying.

"I don't know what to say," Dean whispers. "She walked out after I fought that guy. What do I tell her?"

Cas stares up at him for a moment, then sits up and stretches past Dean towards the nightstand, where he finds a notepad and a pen. "I'll write some ideas down for you. Okay?"

Dean tilts his head as Cas scoots so that his back is resting against the headboard, the notepad braced against his thighs. After a moment of watching Cas scribble and frown, clearly taking this seriously, Dean chuckles to himself and collapses back on the bed, his head pressed up against Cas's side.

A few minutes later, Cas rips the sheet from the pad, folds it into quarters, and drops it on Dean's chest before settling down next to him, their heads tilted towards each other. "Don't read it until you get home. Okay?" Cas mumbles. Dean picks up the little square, smiling to himself.

"Did you write me a love letter, Cas?" He teases, grunting when Cas's knuckles slam into his stomach. "All right, all right, you don't wanna deal with anymore feelings, I gotcha."

"You're such an ass," Cas grumbles, but when Dean glances over, there's a tiny, satisfied smile on Cas's face. The sunlight pours in through the window, golden like honey, and Cas's eyes look somehow darker, soft shadows highlighting all of his best features.

Then Cas's eyes flicker towards Dean's, and Dean turns his attention back to the movie, determined to ignore the itch in his hands, the desire to draw his friend in this light, just like this. A question pushes to the forefront of Dean's brain: _why do you want to draw Cas more than Lisa?_, and Dean quickly shoves it back where it came from, the same place where he keeps his memories of kissing Cas. Now's not the time.

Because Dean's happy here. Just like this.

* * *

Just a note to say that I am a slow writer, lol, and opted to post in chapters/installments instead of the whole thing at once. So this isn't the end of part 2! I am currently working on the next chapter, but I'm also working on a fic for dcbb, so I can't give an exact date for when the next chapter will be posted. Add the fic to your alerts so you'll know right away! Also, you can follow me on tumblr (someoneworthfinding), because I complain about writing under the 'beachverse' tag, lol.


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